Long Way Down
by this thorn
Summary: The first in a series of stories chronicling the romance between Gambit and Wolverine.Sinister has begun a trend of kidnapping small children, and he always seems to be one step ahead of the XMen. With the fledgling friendship between Logan and Remy sw
1. Lost

Title: Long Way Down  
Authors: M/G & B/C  
Rating: PG for mild language  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Marvel, and I'm not making money. I can't afford to be sued.

Gambit surveyed the street one last time. There were no streetlights nearby, but his blazing red eyes saw best in the darkness gave him exceptional night vision A faint breeze scuttled the dry autumn leaves across the pavement: the only sound in the peaceful Westchester neighborhood. Across the road, a bedraggled white dog stopped to sniff the air, then continued down the sidewalk.

Satisfied no one was watching, the young Cajun extended his metal staff and, with two lithe steps, vaulted himself gracefully over the brownstone wall that separated the Xavier Institute from the rest of the world. Once beyond the wall, Gambit quickly sought the cover of a nearby tree and held himself close to the rough trunk. His years as a professional thief would truly be put to the test this time as he prepared to reach and enter the main building of the Xavier Compound.

The Institute, far from being the simple boarding school it advertised to the public, was actually a training ground for young mutants learning to control their newly discovered powers. On top of that, Xavier's school was also home to the X-Men, a group of highly skilled (not to mention powerful) mutants possessing more advanced gadgetry than even the United States government. They were usually an open and kind-hearted group - toward humans and mutants alike - but if they caught Gambit this night, there was no telling what they would do with him.

"It's wort' de risk," he muttered grimly through teeth clenched against the cold, as he slowly crept from his shelter, scanning the face of the mansion for lit windows. Almost every public room of the elegant building was visible from the front of the compound, and Gambit, stealing toward the mansion, would be just as easily seen. "_Merde_," cursed the Cajun almost inaudibly. The Professor was still awake in his study. The former thief was confident he could deal with any of the other mutants, but the Professor was a powerful psychic, perhaps one of the most powerful mutants in the world. He would certainly detect him if he neared the mansion at such a quiet hour. Normally, Gambit could conceal his mind from even Professor Xavier, but after the events of the past weeks, he wasn't wholly confident in his invisibility. Being caught tonight was not an option.

Gambit sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the tree trunk. A few months ago, he wouldn't have cared. He'd have walked away from the mutants who'd turned on him without a second thought. But now, because of one man, he found himself hiding behind a pine tree at midnight, waiting to break into the very house he had been thrown out of just two weeks earlier.

Gambit tiredly mulled over everything that had happened again, just as he had every night since, wondering if the greatest happiness he had ever experienced could have been so completely destroyed in one chaotic night.

"_Mon cher_," murmured Gambit, his head lowered in sadness. He unfolded the collar of his trenchcoat and settled himself on his cushion of pine needles to wait - and to think.

"That's the third one we've lost in ten days! Why couldn't we save this one! Or any of them! We executed everything the exact way we planned it!" Scott yelled in the cold, blue metal control room, his words reverberating off of the walls.

Another child, this time a girl, had been kidnapped following a brutal fight with Sinister and his followers. Like the previous two incidents, the young mutant had been captured while passing through a run-down neighborhood, among the cardboard boxes and crumpled newspapers lining the streets. Each time the victim was alone, seemingly unaware of the reason for the attack. Little else was known about the stolen teenagers - they may not even have had families.

Using Cerebro, Professor X had pin-pointed this most recent attack, sending the X-Men to protect the child. The Marauders had somehow beat them there, without the help of any known device, and were hovering over the petrified youngster, leaving the X-Men no choice but to rush in to do battle for her safety. The team was brutally beaten. Jean's left ankle was injured, possibly broken, by the towering brute, Blockbuster, and she was carried back to the Blackbird along with Ororo, who was knocked unconscious when Scrambler sent her plummeting to the ground in mid-flight.

The outnumbered X-Men could only watch helplessly as the enemy took off with the frightened young mutant. A somber team manned the Blackbird as they returned to Salem.

Back at the mansion, Jean was found only to have a ripped tendon, according to Dr. McCoy, but Ororo had not yet regained consciousness after sustaining a concussion from her fall, and was sleeping peacefully in the bed next to Jean's. And now the others sat in a circle, discussing what mistakes they could have possibly made.

"Yeah, well, if I were to pick out one thing, it'd have to be Logan and his impulsiveness. He nearly cost us our lives, not to mention the girl," Scott opined confidently, with a smug glance in Wolverine's direction.

"Lay off, bub. If it wasn't for me, that little honey of yers would be paste on the floor. I saved her which is more than you did, sitting in the back row "strategizing" with little plastic models of us over a cardboard map. Ya need t'get out there and fight, ya little-"

"Enough!" Professor Xavier roared. "This is not what we need right now. This is the time for questions, not accusations. _Why_ did we lose? _Why_ do these mutants want children? And what I'm sure you are all wondering, what manner of technology has Sinister found that allows him to preempt all our rescue missions?"

The assembled X-Men looked around the room at each other, feeling like scolded children in the face of their leader and father-figure.

"I will meditate on this matter. You all should get some rest. But be prepared at a moment's notice. We've no idea how many more children they will take, or when they will strike next," Xavier cautioned, wheeling his way out of the control room.

The other mutants departed in silence. Watching the sullen procession, Wolverine noticed that Gambit, always a subtle presence at group gatherings, was entirely absent from this meeting.

_Something's up with that boy_, Logan told himself, _ever since that first kid was taken. Someone should go talk to him._

Logan's thoughts were interrupted by Scott, who called him back to the control room just as he reached the exit.

"Logan...the Professor respects my plans, as does the rest of the team. I've proven myself as a capable leader countless times. And I can't stand it when you go off on some Rambo _rampage_ and destroy it all," Scott stated in a low voice, unaware if any of the others were at the door listening.

"Well, maybe your plans have worked in the past _because_ of my...what was it? Rampages?" Wolverine responded wryly.

Scott swallowed, hard, holding back the rage he felt toward anyone who questioned his planning abilities. "Look, I don't get you. I don't know why you're here. And I don't know what you're good for."

"I'm good for kicking the ass of the person you put a red 'X' on, Cyke," Logan smiled.

And with that, Cyclops stormed off, leaving Logan grinning like a jack-in-the-box.

_Oh! Cajun..._

On his way out, Logan went by the infirmary, where Jean's ankle was being examined by the team's furry physician. Jean called to Logan as he passed by, and he turned around, poking his head in the doorway.

"How is she, Blue? Anything permanent?" he asked the doctor.

Beast chuckled. "Not a thing in the world. She'll be running with the rest of us in a matter of days," he said, smiling and patting Jean on the back.

Logan smiled, too. "Well, good. Listen, guys, I've gotta take care of somethin', so you get feelin' better, Red. See ya, Doc."

Beast nodded to Logan as he left.

Logan's brisk strides echoed through the halls of the institute, passing by familiar faces, but none resembled Gambit's. He went into the yard, taking a deep breath of the sharp, cold October air, reveling in the perfect stillness of the evening. He took out a cigar and placed it between his lips, looking for a light. However, before he could bring a match to his face, he noticed Gambit's figure moving behind his drapes in his second floor room. Logan quickly re-entered the manor, pocketing his unlit cigar.

Wolverine jogged up the seemingly endless stairs to the men's residence. He wasn't entirely sure why the Cajun's strange behavior was bothering him, but he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. As he approached Gambit's door, he could hear muffled movement from the other side. He listened for a moment, then decided to knock.

"Hey Gumbo? It's Logan, man. Can I come in?"

The movement strangely seemed to stop.

"Gambit?" Logan tried again. No answer. He reached for the doorknob and turned it soundlessly, pleased to find it wasn't locked. He opened the door slowly, scanning the room for the young mutant he knew was inside. Taking a step into the tiny room, Wolverine finally spotted Gambit. He was crouched behind the door, head in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the concerned man standing over him.

_Definitely the missions._

Logan approached the huddled form, not entirely sure of what he was going to say.

"Hey, Gumbo, don't worry about those kids. You know as well as I do that we'll get 'em back. We'll save 'em and th-"

"Shut up, Logan! Dey need parents, else dey gonna be t'ieves an' worse! Dey don' care any!" Gambit yelled, and in a flash he was on his feet, running toward his open balcony door. He leapt off of the ledge without hesitation, leaving a stunned Logan alone in the dimly lit room. Shaking his head, he ran to the balcony, praying not to see a crumpled mass on the grass below. Instead, he saw Gambit's shadowy figure running toward the nearby trees, trenchcoat flowing behind him like a cape.

"Son of a bitch," Wolverine said ponderously.


	2. Reunion

Title: Long Way Down  
Authors: M/G & B/C  
Rating: PG for mild language  
Disclaimer: Even though I wish they were mine, the characters belong to Marvel. If I was making money, I'd get sued. So I don't get a penny, got it?

Gambit stalked through the foliage, viciously swatting at the low-hanging branches. He had been absent-mindedly kicking a rock for about 40 feet now, but suddenly, with a final, powerful swing of his foot, the stone rocketed through the air. It crashed into the underbrush, hitting every stick on the way down and sent a rustling through the forest.

_Po' petite...done not'in._

A solitary branch materialized in front of the Cajun's scowling face, prompting a violent tug that left the limb lying in the mud behind the relentlessly marching mutant.

_Dey jus' need good folks_..._ a chance._

It had rained a great deal in the past days, leaving pools of water and a settling fog on the ground. Gambit kicked another small rock into a puddle, causing ripples in the surface, which were promptly destroyed by the furious pace of his heavy boots. The constant New York rain would be turning into snow soon enough. Things were getting noticeably colder every day.

_An' why don' dey care? Dey cain see._

Droplets of water fell from the dying leaves, and Gambit angrily wiped the cold mist from his face. The humidity in the forest remained high, despite the low temperature, and the rough gravel path was pitted with dingy puddles. The distracted Acadian stepped into almost every one, greeting each with a splash and a curse.

_Ah don' belong dere, neit'er._

The dark ground was becoming more like a swamp with every step. One of Gambit's boots unexpectedly sank deeply into the mud, holding him back. He viciously ripped his foot away with a horrid slurp, and mud hurtled up, splattering as high as his auburn hair.

_Dey don' know 'ow i' is not belongin'. Nobody know—_

Gambit stopped abruptly, lingering on the thought. The ghost of a grin crossed his tense features as he turned back toward the mansion. Though the trees were dense, he could see there were no outside lights on. The other X-Men would be sitting around the fire playing cards or maybe lying upstairs to sleep off the aches and frustrations of the day's battle. The young Acadian quickly made up his mind and headed for the mansion's garage, anticipation quickening his purposeful gait.

Giving one last look into the dark trees, Wolverine grunted, then turned back into the Cajun's Spartan room.

_What's up with that kid?_

Or was he always like that?

With a disgusted snort that sounded rather like a growl, Logan strode quickly down the hall to his room and slammed the door.

He paced several times across the narrow room, then stalked over to the window and stared into the darkness but, finding no answer, he returned to his unmade bed and sat down heavily.

_What the hell did I walk in on?_

The old Canadian shut his eyes tightly, trying to come up with an explanation for the scene he had just witnessed.

_"Dey need parents, else dey gonna..."_

Wolverine shook his head in frustration. He'd already forgotten what the Cajun had yelled at him before flying from the second floor. It just didn't make sense.

He sat on the edge of his bed, absently extending and retracting his Adamantium claws. He meant to ponder the meaning of Gambit's words, but the situation was just too far beyond his understanding to stay focused on for long. With a sudden feral growl, Wolverine twisted sideways and stabbed his claws through the feather pillow at the head of the bed. He stared for a moment at the impaled cushion, half expecting to see a bleeding foe, before a wry smiled turned a corner of his mouth.

_There's just too much drama in this ole shack._

Logan rose resolutely to his feet and strode over to his closet. Shoving aside a pile of flannel shirts with his foot, he discovered his beat-up leather jacket - more dull brown than the fierce black it had been in its younger days - and snatched it from the floor. It was time to take a vacation from the X-Men and forget about crazy Cajuns and egomaniacal teammates. It was time to shoot some pool.

With a flip of the page, Jean Grey began the next chapter. Curled up in the plush armchair before the glowing fireplace, Jean was reading _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_; it had become one of her favorite books, and she was only half-finished.

With her left ankle bandaged and propped up on a stool, she reached out for her glass of red wine and took a careful sip. Usually the mansion was so hectic – the younger mutants were constantly tearing through the house, and even the older residents got into loud arguments, especially when Wolverine and Scott were both home.

Now, though, Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata _reverberated quietly through the room, the only sound joining the occasional crinkle of paper from the turning pages. It was the ideal night for a good book: perfectly comfortable and peaceful.

So when the sharp footsteps came beating down the stairs, Jean couldn't help but cringe. It was Logan, wearing an old leather jacket and beat-up work boots. She removed her glasses and looked at her watch.

"Logan...where are you off to so late?" she inquired.

"Nowhere. Just out." He responded, leaving the room without looking at her.

Jean had come to expect this sort of response from him. But the defensive way he delivered it seemed unusual to her. Maybe it was her telepathic power, or maybe she was just good at understanding people, but she sensed something was wrong. He seemed tense and in a hurry.

_But Logan's Logan._

She smiled, satisfied with her diagnosis, and turned her attention back down to her book, giddy to know what would become of her dear Francie Nolan.

Wolverine barreled down the stairs, awkwardly pulling on the old jacket as he went. It had been years since he had worn it last. Usually he hated admitting to sentimentality, but the jacket was like an old friend: he never rode his bike without it. Since joining the X-Men, though, he'd rarely felt the need to go chasing the wind – the Professor did absolutely everything to make even a drifter like Wolverine feel comfortable at the Westchester mansion.

_Mebbe I've been sittin' 'round here too long. I jes' need some beer and nine ball to clear my head up._

Jean yelled to him from a deep chair as he reached the landing, but he dismissed her easily and headed straight for the door.

Stepping out into the calm evening, Wolverine was surprised to find it had cooled down substantially in the past hour and the air had become damp and misty. He briefly considered taking Scott's car instead, but discarded the idea when he reached the garage and found the McClaren already gone.

_Cyke ain't got plans tonight..._

Then Wolverine noticed muddy tracks on the far side of Scott's parking space. Without thinking, he crouched down next to them and wrinkled his nose.

_Damn Cajun_.

Wolverine straightened, deliberately grinding a battered boot into the dirty tracks, then returned to his motorcycle. He snatched his heavy helmet from the bike's handlebar and tugged it on as he swung his leg over the seat. Wolverine turned the key and was rewarded with the familiar rumbling of his beautiful machine. He tried to make himself smile at the thought of escaping the stifling atmosphere of the Institute, but managed only an angry grimace. His sour mood had returned the moment he'd caught Gambit's scent. Logan looked down at his beloved jacket and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long night.

Wolverine sped out of the garage, following the Cajun's trail. After a few wrong turns and a dozen slummy back roads, he found himself in Bronxdale, a small city only a couple miles out of Salem. Though it was only 10 p.m. most of the buildings were already dark. Wolverine maneuvered his way to the main commercial street, finding little of interest outside of a grocery store and a 7-11, and silently cursing himself for acting so impulsively, chasing after someone who, like himself, just wanted to be left alone.

Suddenly disgusted with himself (and hoping nobody knew where he had gone), Wolverine revved his bike's engine and waited impatiently for the light to turn green. There were no other cars in sight, and he felt distinctly foolish for not just speeding through the painfully long light. Wolverine was about to do so when he noticed Scott's car parked beneath a neon sign reading "Les trois débutantes" just across the street.

Disregarding his former ideas of leaving the Cajun in peace, he pulled into the parking lot and put down the kickstand. He told himself he was just checking the bar for a pool table, but he didn't believe that for a minute.

"A Sazerac, _s'il vous plaît_," purred the softly accented voice.

"'aven't 'eard dat one in a long time," the bartender said, grinning as he stared into the customer's red-on-black eyes, "_Monsieur_ Remy LeBeau."

A bright smile broke across Gambit's face. "Nicholas," he said warmly, and shook his old friend's proffered hand.

"C'mere," Nicholas said, and tugged Gambit into an awkward embrace across the counter. After a few moments, Nicholas pushed him away, holding on to his shoulders. He shook his head, disbelief on his face.

"'ow did you know where ta find me?"

Gambit grinned mischieviously. "Ya 'ad a message in da paper las' week."

"Oh, _mais oui_! Di'n' know if _personne_ woul' see it."

"It was jus' like we used in da T'ieves Guild. Remy recognize it ri'daway. You run away jus' a few years after Remy,_ n'est-ce pas_?"

"_Oui_, ri'dafter you," Nicholas said fervently.

Gambit chuckled. "'oped ta fin' y'again. S'jus' been so busy lately," his face fell. "Di'n' 'ave time ta come fin' ya."

"Ya look like ya jus' foun' a gator in yo' bed," Nicholas said seriously, gazing into his friend's troubled eyes. "Ah'll ge' us some Sazerac an' we can ca'ch up on de ol'dimes, eh?" he smiled lightly.

Gambit took a seat at a booth off to the right of the bar and looked around. The paneled walls looked golden in the dim light, and were surprisingly devoid of decoration. The entire bar, in fact, was sparsely furnished. Patrons sat at booths or on the rough benches that surrounded unfinished tables. It definitely wasn't high-class, but it felt like home. Gambit smiled contentedly. A flurry of French words floated about the small room where he finally had the chance to spend an evening with a friend from his days in the Thieves Guild. The feeling was almost overwhelming. For the first time in years, he belonged.

Gambit was shaken from his reverie by the thud of the heavy glass Nicholas placed in front of him. He blinked several times and realized Nicholas had seated himself on the opposite side of the booth.

"T'ought ya fell asleep dere," he said, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

"_Non,_" Gambit said dismissively, then sipped his drink, giving an appreciative nod. "S'very good."

Nicholas shrugged modestly, unable to hide a smirk at his pathetic acting.

"De customers seem to t'ink so."

"_Moi aussi,_" Gambit said, proving his point by taking another swallow of his cocktail.

"_C'est bon_," said Nicholas with a grin, trying to break through his companion's distracted demeanor. "You 'ave a lotta tell me, _homme_." He rested his arms on the table in front of him.

Nicholas's smile was infectious, and Gambit found himself grinning broadly despite his previous sour mood.

"Not'in' special. Ah lef' da Guild an' come up 'ere. Foun' dis buncha mutants. Dey 'elp people, an' dey le' me move in. Now Remy jus' 'elp dem 'elp people."

Nicholas snorted at Remy's offhand tone, but his dark eyes danced in amusement. "_Oui_, soun's like somet'ing you'd do. 'ow is it for ya?"

"S'okay," Gambit replied brusquely, his expression unchanging.

Despite the discourteous reply from his usually well-mannered friend, Nicholas was unruffled, instead waiting with an attentive expression for an elaboration.

He didn't get it. Gambit held his glass to his mouth pensively for an instant, then replaced it on the table with studied care.

"Wha' 'bout you, Nicholas?" he said, forcing his practiced teasing grin to his face. "Looks like you done well f'yourself."

"Ah only got what you see 'ere," he said, "but s'my own an' Ah like dis place. 'aven't seen many've de ol' boys, d'oh. Ah don' t'ink dey got out." He frowned slightly. "Ah 'ear da Guild's gotten bigger."

Gambit felt his vaunted poker face cracking and quickly brought his glass up to cover it. He saw Nicholas's confusion over the rim and decided there was no point in letting his brooding ruin what should be the best night of his new life.

He was still contemplating what he should say when the table shook and Nicholas was suddenly lying on the thin wooden plank, peering up at his downturned face beneath his chestnut bangs.

"You gonna tell me wha' da problem is, _mon ami_?"

Gambit laughed weakly and sat upright.

"_Alors,_" he began, and furrowed his eyebrows. "S'jus'...di' Jean-Luc really care 'bout us?"

A look of perplexity painted itself on Nicholas's face and he sat up.

"_Quoi?_"

Gambit paused again before answering, shifting his jaw to one side, then running his tongue over his teeth. With extreme effort he finally answered.

"When Jean-Luc took us in, did 'e jus' want us ta steal, or did 'e really care 'bout us?"

"Where'd dat come from?" Nicholas asked, his uneasy expression betraying his concern.

Remy sighed heavily, knowing he would have to finally say all the things that had been plaguing his mind since the day the first kidnapping began. But he finally found someone who would understand, and so resolutely explained his worry.

"_Alors_, dere's been all dese kidnappin's lately, an' it don' seem no different from wha' Jean-Luc di'." a distressed grimace crossed his delicate features and he felt on the verge of tears. He already despised himself for thinking badly about his adoptive father, but hearing the words coming from a mouth that sounded incredibly like his own voice was so much more painful.

Nicholas interrupted his self-hatred.

"Remy, wha's wrong with you?" he chided in a soft voice. "Ya know 'e loved ya like 'is own kid."

"_Oui, je sais,_ but dat doesn' make it right ta take li'l kids an' make 'em inta t'ieves!" Gambit said loudly, not caring that everyone in the bar was staring at him.

"Remy," Nicholas began, but was cut off by the loud roar of a motorcycle as a patron sped out of the parking lot. When the rumbling subsided, Nicholas began again. "S'in da past, _mon ami_. Don' worry 'bout dat anymore."

"_Non!_" Gambit exploded. "S'not over. _Tu viens de dire que la guilde grossit toujours!_ Dey still robbin' _des petits_ of dere child'oods!"

Nicholas looked upset, but more than a week of anger had finally found a release and Gambit continued his outburst unchecked.

"Ah already decide ta go see Jean-Luc an' stop 'im 'owever Ah can, even if Ah 'afta blow de 'ole place to 'ell."

The anger brought a fierce look to Gambit's thin face and he sat for several minutes drawing quavering breaths while his friend silently stared into his empty glass.

A large group of men pushed into the bar, greeting friends loudly and throwing the other patrons off of bar stools to monopolize the counter space.

"Looks like Ah 'ave some work ta do," Nicholas said, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

Gambit suddenly looked into his friend's eyes, feeling horrible for wasting their time together, an apology brimming on his parted lips, but Nicholas silenced him with his quick smile.

"Ah tell ya what. De weekend a busy time 'ere, but you come back Monday night an' we 'ave some more Sazerac an' you tell me dat story 'bout da time ya got caught stealin' dat bearskin rug, _d'accord_?"

Remy smiled and nodded, a silent thank you in his eyes. With a grunt he pushed himself to his feet and stepped outside. His disappointment at his angry outburst was fading, replaced by his excitement at the prospect of a long night of reminiscing come Monday. It was just like his old friend to use his charm to smooth over even the most heinous breaches of manners. He smiled to himself as he climbed into the car. Nicholas hadn't changed a bit.

Wolverine entered the dark manor and closed the door silently. He turned in the direction of the staircase, taking a few laboriously soundless steps before he realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly and cast an apprehensive glance around him, hoping he nobody else was near to rope him into a late-night life confession or something. When he finally felt at ease, he tried to climb the stairs quietly, not wanting to awaken anyone, but stealth wasn't his style. His heavy boots echoed throughout the hall and every step seemed to have a creaking board. He grimaced and opened his door.

Once inside his room, Logan tugged off his jacket and tossed it back on the heap of flannel shirts covering his closet floor. He jumped into his bed, embedding his face in the ripped pillow, but quickly lifted his head again to spit out a feather, watching it flutter lightly to the ground.

Wolverine yawned, throwing the aroma of beer back into his nostrils.

_Wha was the name of tha' bar? "Lez troy..."_

He replayed the scene in his mind. The bar had been crowded enough for him to find a table where he could sit unnoticed by anyone, most importantly Gambit. Despite the noise and bustle, though, he had heard every word of the Cajun's conversation as if they had been talking to each other.

_Din't know Gumbo knew anybody else 'round here..._

Logan turned over and looked up at the ceiling, hands behind his head. He could feel the warm air from the heater brush against his hair. Usually a night of pool left him contented and tired when he returned to the manor, but his first excursion of the night had weighed too heavily on his mind to let him enjoy his game. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would overcome him. But it didn't.

_We don know nuttin' 'bout 'im._ _Maybe tha's why I followed 'im..._

He bit his lower lip, staring into the white plaster.

_Why 'm I thinkin' so much?_

Wolverine shot out of bed and walked over to the light switch, flicking it off and plunging the small room into a cool darkness. He shuffled back, stumbling over a pair of jeans he'd absently discarded there a week or two ago. He kicked them out of the way and stretched out on his bed.

_What was he doin' in there...? Stop!_

He forced his eyes shut and tried to turn his brain off. It wasn't hard; sleep was finally gaining on him quickly.

_Wha' was he talkin' 'bout in there?_

And before he could tell himself to shut up again, he fell asleep.


	3. Timing

Title: Long Way Down  
Authors: M/G & B/C  
Rating: PG – a bit of death and violence, just like home  
Disclaimer: Until Marvel answers any one of my three thousand letters begging for the rights to the X-Men, I'm just borrowing them, and not making any money from this.

Wolverine woke up a few minutes before noon on Friday. After lying in bed for ten more minutes, he groggily stood up and stretched, a last yawn sweeping over him. He picked up a random pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt, and waded through his dirty laundry to the door. After a quick stop to the bathroom, he walked downstairs.

He no more than reached the landing when children tore past him, nearly knocking him off of his feet. Wolverine braced himself against the stair rail and stared out the front door after them for several confused moments before walking over and closing it.

_Is it recess already? _

He looked at the grandfather clock next to him. 12:16.

_Guess so._

Wolverine walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and rummaged through the items. Milk, apples, eggs, cheese...He opened the cupboards...Bread, peanut butter, chips...

_How come there's never anything to eat around here?_

He found a package of beef jerky he had hidden in the back and took it over to the counter. He pulled out a strip of smoked meat and chewed on it as he looked out the window.

_I should polish up my bike today..._

He snatched up the bag of jerky then ran up to his room and grabbed his leather jacket. Rogue passed him as he went to the garage, effortlessly carrying a large oak dresser she'd picked out for her room. Logan greeted her and walked on. The air was getting colder by the day and Wolverine gave a slight shudder as he stepped into the shade of the garage.

Inside, he grabbed an old rag and walked over to his bike, kneeling down next to it. Logan spit into the rag and started to rub the cold metal on the bike until the surface was reflective once more. Logan stood back to admire his work.

Then he noticed that the McLaren was gone again.

_Maybe Gambit took it. Haven't seen 'im today..._

Wolverine left the garage several hours later. The sun had already started to set, giving the sky a harsh orange hue. As much as he wished it were possible, Wolverine couldn't survive on beef jerky alone, and his deprived stomach growled in protest. He cringed at the thought of taking his newly cleaned and tuned bike out to look for dinner, but a quick sniff of the air told him chicken was cooking inside the manor. He jogged to the door, his breath making white clouds in front of him.

Jean was almost finished preparing dinner, so Wolverine quickly ran upstairs and took a shower.

He walked back to the kitchen ten minutes later; most of the mutants were already at the table. He scratched his wet hair as everyone greeted him.

"Geez, Wolverine, you look like a drowned rat," Cyclops sneered.

"So do you, Cyke," Wolverine retorted.

Cyclops turned to Jean and rolled his eyes.

The rest of the night was spent around the table eating the chicken, rice and rolls, followed by a two-tiered devil's food cake, conversation accompanying it all. Afterwards, the mutants all went to their rooms; nobody felt up to a movie, despite Jean's pleading. Wolverine noticed that Gambit had not yet come home. He fell onto his bed, not

bothering to undress, and waited for half an hour, hoping to hear the front door open.

_Nothin'_

So, he fell asleep.

Cyclops knocked loudly on Wolverine's door, waking the Canadian up with a start. He groaned. Scott's muffled voice came from behind the closed door.

"Danger Room in fifteen."

Wolverine looked at the digital clock on the stand next to his bed. It read 8:44.

"Just five more minutes, ma," Wolverine responded.

"Just get up, Logan." Cyclops proceeded down the hallway, repeating the announcement at each door.

"Hey, Kurt, Danger Room in fifteen."

"_Ja wohl._ Already there!" Nightcrawler shouted, and with a loud 'poof' he was gone. Wolverine could smell the sulfuric vapors that always accompanied Nightcrawler's teleporting.

Cyclops knocked on Iceman's door, shouting the wake up call again.

"Yeah, yeah, almost ready."

"Danger Room in fifteen....Gambit?" Scott knocked again.

Iceman came out of his room, scratching his tangled hair.

"Bobby, have you seen Gambit?" Cyclops asked.

"I dunno."

Wolverine lifted his head from his pillow and lowered his eyebrows.

_He's gone again?_

Scott came back to Wolverine's door.

"Wolverine, where's Gambit?"

"I wouldn't know, Cyke. If you couldn't tell, you _just_ woke me up."

Logan heard Cyclops walk away.

Eventually Logan stood up, washed his face in the bathroom and put on his costume. He met with Iceman on the way to the Danger Room.

"We ain't getting' paid enough for this crap," Bobby grumbled tiredly.

Wolverine chuckled.

They walked into the Danger Room, the others turning to face them.

"Thanks for joining us, guys," Cyclops called from the far side of the room. "All right! Let's start!" he shouted.

It was a standard exercise: a group of Sentinels attacking out of nowhere. The X-Men, used to the scenario, in the Danger Room and in the field, quickly took care of it with no problems. Wolverine noticed a difference without Gambit's quick actions. The fight seemed longer.

Cyclops commended them all for their work and they left the Danger Room at 11:00am. The girls – Storm, Rogue and Jean – had decided to go shopping at the mall, leaving the men to fend for themselves for lunch. Beast played out the day down in the lab and Scott read a book in Jean's favorite spot by the fireplace. Iceman had retreated into his room and Nightcrawler decided to take a walk outside. Finding himself relatively alone in the mansion, Logan decided to get some work done around the house.

He grabbed a can of oil, a hammer and a box of nails from the toolbox he excavated from the murky depths of his closet. He oiled all of the door hinges and replaced the older ones, installed a new shower head, then went outside where he sanded and stained Rogue's dresser. He was about to put his tools away when he remembered Jean had asked him to put up a screw and anchor just outside the kitchen so she could hang her new picture on it. He drilled a hole began tapping the anchor in with a hammer. The noise was just loud enough to mask the sound of the front door opening, but Wolverine's noise was working just fine. He turned to look.

_Cajun._

"Hey, Gumbo, where've ya been?"

"Oh, nowhere really. Jus' takin' car' o' some t'ings. But Ah t'ink Ah jus' gonna go up t'ma room now. See ya lata'."

Wolverine frowned and when Gambit flew up the stairs, he turned back to the project. When it was finished and the picture was hanging level on the wall, he packed up his tools. Before he could get to the stairs, though, Rogue and Storm came through the front door.

"Hello, Logan," Storm said. "We thought we saw Gambit come in just now. Did...?"

"Yeah. He's up in his room."

"Oh. Well, we need your help," Storm said humbly.

Rogue nodded. "That ol' car got a flat tire a piece up the road. Jean stayed with it, but none of us gals know how to change a tire..."

"All right. I can help," Logan responded gruffly, setting the toolbox a small table near the door.

Rogue scooped up Wolverine, ignoring his protests, and the two women flew back to the stranded car. Wolverine squinted at the wind that slammed into his face. He saw Jean and the red car far below and they descended.

Wolverine nodded an acknowledgement at Jean then opened the trunk and removed a tire and a metal tool kit. He set the objects on the street next to the flattened rear-left tire, removing it and tossing it in the trunk. Storm and Jean watched as Logan screwed the new tire into place. Rogue just sat in the car rummaging through the items she had bought.

Wolverine patted the tire. "There ya go. All set."

"That's wonderful, Logan. Thank you. But..." Storm trailed off.

"What? What is it?"

"Well..." Jean continued. "We were wondering if..."

Rogue popped her head out the window. "C'mon back to the mall with us, sugah! We found some stuff we all think you'd like!"

Wolverine looked up the road, knowing his only choices were to get in the car or be put in the car. The former seemed at least more dignified, so he gritted his teeth and opened the car door.

Jean squealed with delight and even Storm smiled broadly at their victory.

The girls took him into a dozen men's clothing stores where he bought more pairs of blue jeans and some solid-colored shirts, one of which he wore on his way out to stop the women whining about his grease-stained white tee. He was surprised to see the sun was long gone when they left the mall; the experience hadn't been quite as unbearable as he'd expected.

Sunday passed by uneventfully. It was the Day of Rest and the X-Men did just that. After breakfast, Jean, Scott and Bobby watched a movie in the den, and other mutants joined them as the afternoon progressed. Nightcrawler was away at church, as per usual. Gambit was MIA again. And Logan decided to attempt to clean his room.

_Where the hell does that kid keep running off to?_

He picked up dirty clothes that lay strewn about his room, throwing them into a hamper he'd been surprised to unearth in his closet. He started to pick up empty food wrappers until he saw the true extent of the accumulation on the ground.

_Screw it._

He tossed the wrappers back to the floor.

On Monday, things returned to normal: the kids were back in school and there was work to be done in the mansion. The teachers lectured the children all day, while others prepared food and checked mission equipment.

Gambit joined the team for breakfast, a welcome surprise for the X-Men, but then went back to his room for the rest of the day. Logan watched him go.

_He's really starting to bug me._

Logan had gone outside to meditate, a relaxation tactic he had picked up while in Japan. He sat cross-legged on a wooden stump as the sun beat down on his face, but the air was cold. When the sky began to darken, Wolverine went back inside. As he entered the house he scented the aroma of Jean's delectable tomato sauce.

_Spaghetti!_

Wolverine helped set the table and eyed an extra seat.

_Cajun gonna eat with us?_

He went upstairs and knocked on Gambit's door.

"_Oui? _C'mon in."

Wolverine entered and looked about Gambit's room. It was neat and organized – a sharp contrast to the last time he was there. He eyed the balcony doors warily, making sure they were closed.

Gambit was putting on his gloves, already decked out in his favorite trenchcoat and boots. He turned around and smiled at Logan.

"Oh...uh, Gumbo, were you gonna eat with us? Spaghetti...?"

"_Non, merci._ Gambit gotta go out fo' a bit. T'anks, do'h."

"Yeah, all right. See ya around." Wolverine left the room and closed the door behind him.

_That's right...it's Monday...back to that bar._

He scratched his chin and went to his room down the hall.

A few minutes later, he heard Gambit exit his room and casually shut the door. Wolverine listened as the Cajun walked down the stairs, then slowly opened his own door, leather coat and workboots on. He stood at the top of the stairs until he heard the front door open and then close again, then descended the staircase as sneakily as possible, feeling for all the world like a child playing spy games.

Wolverine passed by the kitchen as walked toward the front door, and Jean spotted him.

"Oh, Logan. Are you going somewhere? I thought you were going to eat," she said.

_God, it smells so good!_

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Jean. I gotta go take care o' somethin'. Be back later."

"Oh...ok. Bye." And she walked back into the kitchen where the other mutants were engaged in conversation at the table.

Wolverine opened the door. He heard the sound of an engine start then rumble away. When he was sure that the coast was clear he jogged to the garage. He fished the keys out of his pocket and hopped onto his motorcycle.

Gambit laughed as he sped down the deserted road. He opened his window and reveled in the blend of frigid air and blaring music surrounding him. Life had finally shaped up and he was actually happy. Gambit stuck his head out of the car, wind smacking his face, and yelled with glee as loud as he could.

Wolverine parked his bike in front of the bar and approached the door. There were no windows and the door was made of thick oak; even with his superior senses he couldn't make out any sounds coming from inside. He hoped the Cajun wouldn't see him walk in. Logan had no idea what he'd say if confronted by Gambit.

_I already felt drunk just lookin' at the place. I couldn't even say the name._

Logan grinned at his own wit, then pulled open the heavy door. The lights were dim and smoke hung densely in the warm air. Wolverine quickly scanned the crowded room and spotted the unmistakable brown coat that Gambit always wore at a far booth. He was talking with that other man – Nicolas – again, sitting with his back to the door. Logan relaxed a little, then made his way toward the bar. There were at least two dozen men in the pub. Some sat at the bar, while others sat on wooden benches around the squat tables that were placed haphazardly around the room. The buzz of conversation filled the small bar, but Wolverine found he couldn't understand any of it. They were speaking French.

Wolverine pulled up the collar of his leather jacket and, as inconspicuously as he could, walked past the table where Gambit sat to take a seat on the far side of a burly man at the bar. He was fairly sure the Cajun wouldn't be able to see him, but he didn't dare lean around the flannel-clad giant to check. The bartender walked over to him.

"Just a beer," Wolverine said as quietly as he could; only enough for the man behind the counter to hear. Logan slightly turned his head to the left, seeing if he could pick up any of the conversation at Gambit's table. He smiled.

_Loud and clear._

"...'ow ya been?" Nicholas asked.

"Not so good. Y'know 'ow it is," Gambit replied. "Wha' 'bout you?"

Nicholas shrugged "Not bad," he said dismissively. "So, you go' some friends up 'ere? Or ya mee'tany _jeune filles_?" He smirked into his glass while keeping his eyes on the other man.

Gambit gave a half smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "No' really."

"Oh, c'mon you ol' _charmeur_," Nicholas chivvied him slyly. "Wha' 'bout doze folks ya live wit'?"

Gambit looked down at the table and, after a long moment, replied. "Non. Dey don' notice Remy," Gambit realized he was worrying his friend, and quickly flashed him a smile.

"Bu' you a goo'd_ami_, Nicholas."

Nicholas gave a weak smile but said nothing.

"_Excusez-moi, Monsieur._"

Wolverine suddenly realized he was almost leaning off his stool watching the two men and pulled himself back to the bar where the bartender waited with his beer.

The old Canadian fumbled in his tight pockets and pulled out a ten dollar bill.

"Urm...keep it," he mumbled dazedly to the barkeep.

"_Oui_."

He took a sip of the amber liquid, letting it coat his dry throat, then tilted his head back towards the conversation. They were talking about old times again, just like last week. The stories all sounded the same to Wolverine: old families, huge heists, close calls.

He turned back to his drink and contemplated one of Gambit's answers.

_No friends. "Dey don' notice Remy."_

Wolverine had often noticed that the young Cajun wasn't really a part of the mansion life, but he'd always thought it was by choice that Gambit didn't associate much with his team members, not the other way around.

Wolverine leaned back and looked at his introverted teammate. He was laughing heartily and his white teeth practically glowed in the bar's weak light.

Smiling to himself, Logan took a gulp of his beer.

_No friends, eh?...I din't know that meant so much to 'im. I'll talk to 'im when we get home._

Abruptly, the man next to Logan who had unwittingly been hiding him from Gambit's eyes stood and left. Wolverine quickly hunched his shoulders and tried to hide his face. After a minute, he realized the young thief hadn't noticed him and chanced a look at the table. Gambit was sitting with his shoulders drooped, gaze intently focused on his half-empty glass.

"Plus, dese kidnappins...I don' like it one bit. Dese po' kids..." Gambit took a sip of his drink, searching for the right words.

Wolverine heard Nicholas grunt an acknowledgement while he lit a cigarette. Logan turned his head a tad farther to look at the man. He was staring at the tabletop, finger tracing a knot in the wood, chewing on his lower lip. Under the table, Logan saw him fidgeting with his cigarette. Wolverine raised an eyebrow.

_What's up with him? They were laughin' like kids a few minutes ago..._

Gambit finally spoke again.

"Ah jus' cain take dis. I have to do somethin'" he said, voice strained. "After we take care a dis t'ing 'ere, Ah gonna take ev'rybody ta New Orleans ta shut down da T'ieves Guild. Ah love Jean-Luc, bu' wha' dey do ain' right."

To Wolverine the air seem electrified. Conversations suddenly grew quieter and Gambit appeared to be the center of everyone's attention, even though not one person chanced a look at the young mutant's table.

"I really nee' ta go," Gambit said, rising from the booth. "Dey might no' wan' Remy, bu' doze kids are more important."

A distressed look crossed Nicholas's thin face.

"Maybe we get together next week, OK, _homme_?" Gambit said with a reassuring smile, then strode toward the door.

Wolverine looked away and lowered his head, sipping his drink. A moment later, he heard a familiar sound: the dull scrape of metal, like every time he unsheathed his lethal claws. He turned back once more to see, and inhaled deeply when he saw the blade under the table, the polished metal reflecting what little light there was in the bar.

_'the hell?_

"_Non_, Gambit. I don' t'ink we can," Nicholas said, rising, voice straining and hesitant.

Gambit turned around, confused.

"I never left da Guild, _mon ami_."

Nicholas held the knife comfortably at his side and took two strides toward the Cajun. Gambit's mouth was open slightly, and his eyes stared uncomprehendingly forward. His hand was held mere inches from the pocket in his coat where he stashed his playing cards, but he made no move to take them out.

Wolverine only caught part of what Nicholas said next as he advanced toward the stricken Gambit. "...bu' Ah have ta. You're dangerous." Wolverine extended his claws, knocking his glass to the floor with a crash. The patrons who had previously ignored the scene in the bar suddenly turned all eyes on him, but he paid them no attention.

"Gambit!" he shouted.

Gambit made no reply, but only watched as his friend stepped closer, the sadness in his eyes strangely contrasting the glittering blade in his right hand.

Without thinking, Wolverine jumped towards Nicholas, claws leading the way. He roared and jammed them into the small of Nicholas back, with a wet smack. The claws went straight through the unprotected nervous tissue of the spine. The impaled man fell to the floor face first, with Wolverine on his back. The knife fell out of his hands, inches away from Gambit's neck. A bowl of gumbo from the table above fell on Wolverine. The smoldering liquid ate its way into his back, but he remained on top of Nicholas, pinning him to the ground, his claws sticking in the wooden floorboards. Blood was trickling from the corner of the dying man's mouth, and he coughed several times. With a struggling gasp, Nicholas' fists unclenched and his body loosened. Dead.

Some of the other men in the bar turned to look, but many continued talking and drinking as though the bar owner was not lying lifeless in a growing dark puddle.

Wolverine panted hard, his face a wild mask of bloodlust. He finally unclenched his teeth and looked up at Gambit. The Cajun was staring at the lifeless body at his feet. His face was incredibly pale and Logan saw tears pooling at the corners of his demonic eyes.

"_Mon dieu..._" Gambit whispered, shutting his eyes tightly. His jaw trembled.

Wolverine opened his mouth to speak but could not. He sheathed his reddened claws and blood spewed from the new openings. The liquid shot upwards like a fountain, soaking the front of Wolverine's jeans. He could feel the warm stickiness through the fabric. He backed away from the body, breathing hard. Logan took a step toward Gambit and reached out a bloody hand.

"_Non_," Gambit gasped. With one more look at Wolverine, he ran out the door.

Wolverine shouted after him. He slipped on the pooling blood and fell back to the ground. "Wait!" He climbed to his feet and looked around the room.

_Nobody cares._

With an agonized growl, Wolverine dashed out the oak door.

He threw it open and saw nothing except the lifeless street and the illuminated sidewalk in front of him. Wolverine looked around and, to his left, saw Scott's McClaren still sitting in the lot. He expected to see the Cajun's silhouetted head behind the wheel, but there was no one in the car.

_He's gone..._


	4. Betrayal

Title: Long Way Down  
Authors: M/G & B/C  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor am I getting paid for all this nonsense. I can hardly afford a comic book, yet alone being sued.

Gambit stumbled into the street, unable to breathe despite the crispness of the night air. He broke into an awkward run, not knowing where he was going, but vaguely realizing he didn't want to be seen. Finally raising his head, he scanned the area and found the beginnings of a forest just across the street, and he took off towards it, pumping his long legs as hard as he could.

Once in the protective cover of the trees, Gambit checked his pace slightly. He didn't even know why he was running, except maybe to get away from the image of Wolverine's blood-soaked claws.

_Nicholas's blood._

Suddenly his stomach turned and he braced his arm against a tree as his he vomited. The bile soured his mouth and he squatted down, feeling dizzy and very warm, despite the autumn air. Gambit took several shaky breaths before rising to his feet again, remembering that he couldn't stay there, so close to...

_Mon dieu.Une lame..._

He began jogging once more, not caring about the warm tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, or that sharp branches kept slapping his face as he skipped and stumbled across the broken ground.

_A knife. He had a knife._

The Cajun shook his head violently, trying to stop himself from thinking about what he had witnessed, but only succeeded in making himself dizzier. He bent down, panting, and placed his hands on his knees. His hands and arms shook, and it seemed the affliction traveled through the rest of his body as well, and he gratefully let his knees collapse beneath him.

It seemed to follow him everywhere, this disaster. Everyone he cared about died. He knew it was his fault and furrowed his eyebrows angrily, but a sob still escaped his lips.

Few sounds disturbed Gambit as he sat on the marshy ground. Most of the birds were gone, and even the familiar chirping of crickets had disappeared some weeks back. Gambit absently crinkled and crushed handfuls of dead leaves from the forest floor as he let a plan slowly form in his mind.

It was time to go. Before anyone else got hurt. He smiled sadly. Nobody would miss him here, either.

As his mind settled, Gambit's thief's instincts began to return, and he silently chided himself for all the noise he was making. He quickly glanced around himself to make sure no one had crept on him, and was almost satisfied when he noticed a light barely showing between two thick tree trunks. Gambit pulled himself to his feet, brushing moist soil from his coat, and walked past the trees. There, not two hundred yards ahead of him, was the Xavier mansion.

Gambit composed himself carefully. It wouldn't do to have people talking to him now. He would put together his few personal effects and slip out well before the sun rose. He wanted to be gone before Wolverine got home, too. There was no way he would forgive Logan for his part in the night's events.

_He had a knife._

Gambit shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind and strode confidently toward the mansion. Somebody was still awake, betrayed by the glowing window on the ground floor. Hopefully that person would be content to let Gambit creep up to his room undisturbed. Soon, they wouldn't have to worry about him ever again.

Almost everyone in the mansion was asleep. It was already after midnight, and the day's training had been hard. The Danger Room had been running programs constantly from right after breakfast until after sundown. Some of the simulations were for the whole team, while some tested one X-Man at a time. The entire team had participated, outside of Storm, who had been ill since Sunday morning. She spent the entire day resting in her room, but the others had worked out non-stop, spending their short breaks from the Danger Room discussing battle strategies with the Professor.

When they were finally released for the night, none of the X-Men even had the energy to cook. Scott finally took the initiative and order a dozen pizzas, which were devoured mere moments after the boxes were opened. Most of the mutants had quietly shuffled off to bed early, too exhausted to even consider the usual round of cards or board games. Jean and Scott had taken advantage of the empty den and were watching some old movies Jean had found buried in one of the mansion's many storage closets.

Jean snuggled closer to Scott and wrapped her arms around his bicep. He rubbed her back gently and she yawned into his sleeve.

Scott turned and smiled down at her. "Getting tired already?"

"Not at all," she lied, pausing to yawn again. "I'm just comfy."

Scott chuckled softly and seemed about to say something when the front door opened. Jean sat bolt upright, startled at the intrusion. When she saw who it was, she tried to shake off her tiredness and put on a smile.

"Hey, Gambit," she said cheerfully. "Where's Wolverine? I thought he went off after you?"

Gambit's face turned pale, noticeable even in the flickering light of the television. He stared at Jean for a moment, then turned away and ran up the stairs without answering.

_Was his coat covered in mud?_

"What was that about?" Scott asked.

Shaken from her reverie, Jean turned back to the couch. "I'm not sure." She paused and knit her eyebrows.

"Sometimes I think he's more immature than even Logan," Scott said flatly, then reached his arm around Jean's shoulder.

Jean shrugged away from the touch and stood up. "I think I'm going to go talk to him," she said. "We can't let him think nobody cares when he's unhappy."

Scott snorted. "Well, do you want me to pause the movie?"

She reached down, smiling, and grasped Scott's fingers. "Don't worry about it, dear. I'll try not to be long." She let Scott's hand fall and walked off toward the stairs.

Scott grinned and kicked his feet up on the antique coffee table and put another pillow behind his back. Suddenly, the table slid out from underneath his feet, and he almost slipped off the couch in surprise. Jean's laughter echoed down the staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Jean paused. She was only a few feet from the Cajun's door, and she could clearly hear that he was upset. Drawers were being torn open and slammed shut viciously, and she jumped when something glass crashed to the floor. She exhaled softly and stepped a pace closer to the door. She raised her hand to knock, but on the other side of the door, Gambit abruptly yelled and hurled a heavy object at the wall. Jean blanched and walked back to the head of the stairs.

_Maybe later._

Jean suddenly felt exhausted. She sat on the top step, wondering if it was really the best idea to leave her teammate alone when he was obviously distressed.

_But he's never needed our help before._

She sighed and hauled herself to her feet with the help of the thick oak banister. The entire den glowed faintly blue from the movie Scott was still watching by himself.

_He probably doesn't even care that I'm not there._

She smirked and trotted down the stairs, then leaped over the back of the couch, tackling Scott from behind. He bellowed in surprise, then smiled when Jean stopped squirming and caught his eye.

"Wow, that really _was _quick."

"Yeah, well---" Jean began, but just then the front door crashed open and Jean sat up to see Logan silhouetted in the doorway.

"Where's the Cajun?" he growled.

Jean stared at him for a moment. His hair was more disheveled than usual, and there was a frantic urgency in his features that scared her. He was breathing heavily – something she had never seen him do – and the fronts of his jeans were darkly stained.

"Logan, are you..." Jean started, but was interrupted again by the Wolverine.

"Where's the Cajun?" he repeated forcefully, and Jean squeaked quietly in fear. Scott grasped her upper arm tightly, but she shook him away.

"H-h-he's in his room," she said quietly. Wolverine didn't even acknowledge her, but dashed to the staircase. Jean managed to compose herself and tried to shout after him. "I don't think he wants company, Logan! Logan!"

She sighed heavily and turned back to the TV. Scott slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

"Don't worry about it," he said with a smile. "They're adults. They can handle themselves."

"I know, Scott," she paused, biting her lip. "It's just...they both seemed so upset."

"C'mon, you know Logan. He probably just has a hangnail. And Gambit, we don't know anything about him. What could we do to help?" Scott kissed the top of her head. "This is a fight we should just stay out of," he spoke into her hair.

Jean sighed again and snuggled closer to her boyfriend. "You're right," she said softly, then smiled as Scott pulled a blanket over her legs. "As always."

The Xavier mansion burst out of the trees as Wolverine sped up the wide front driveway. He had lost the Cajun's scent where he'd entered the forest but his instincts had led him back to the manor.

_He ain't got nowhere else t'go._

Logan careened up the front walk and was off his bike before the wheels stopped spinning. The meticulously tuned machine fell to its side and bounced on the dark concrete. Wolverine paid no attention; he sniffed the air once more.

_He was just here._

The incensed Canadian charged through the front door.

"Where's the Cajun?" he bellowed.

Jean, sitting on the couch, stared up at him.

"Logan, are you..."

"Where's the Cajun!" Wolverine shouted, dimly hearing the clatter of vases vibrating beneath his shouted questions.

"H-h-he's in his room," Jean responded, flustered. Wolverine shot up the stairs, hearing Jean shout something after him. He didn't listen.

****

Wolverine raced up the stairs, his heart pounding louder than his boots as he approached Gambit's closed door.

The Cajun wasn't even trying to be quiet. Through the door, Wolverine's keen hearing picked up the sound of paper being torn as Gambit's heavy boots thumped across the room.

He was about to knock on the door when a new noise --subtle, yet disturbing-- reached his ears.

_He's crying..._

The Canadian's angry resolve faded and he leaned back against the wall, eyes boring a hole in the hallway's stagnant air.

_He looked so different when he was talkin' with that bastard, Nicholas. He looked happy...and I...no, he was gonna kill Gambit!_

Wolverine looked at the dried blood on the front of his jeans and sighed. Suddenly, a loud thud reverberated from the room followed by a curse from Gambit. Wolverine heard the Cajun shuffling through objects, breathing heavily. Waiting outside wasn't going to sort anything out.

_All right. You can do this..._

He knocked.

"Open up, Gumbo. I need t'talk to ya."

The rummaging ceased and quiet footsteps sounded from the room, followed by the soft screech of bedsprings. Logan waited, but there was no further movement and the door remained closed. Sighing heavily, he knocked again.

"C'mon, open the door, Kid. I got somethin' t'say ta ya."

"Gambit ain' got not'in' t'say t'no murderer," came the muffled voice from behind the door.

Wolverine felt a surge of rage swell in his chest. He thankfully let his penchant for anger replace his nervous attempt at penance.

"Murderer?" he bellowed, bursting into the room with a lowered shoulder "I'll murder _you_, ya little..." He stopped short when his mind began to register the scene before him. Every drawer had been removed from the dresser, and one lay shattered on the ground in a pile of splintered wood. Clothes were scattered across the floor - leather pants were ripped in two and fine silk shirts were covered in muddy footprints. A garbage can lay on its side, spilling paper and plastic wrappers onto the carpet. The curtains from the tall windows were in a pile next to the bed, and the balcony doors stood open, the cold breeze gently sweeping the scattered debris across the floor.

Logan's baffled gaze finally found Gambit. The young Cajun, usually so debonair and fastidious, now appeared just as disheveled as his room. A ratty hooded sweatshirt had replaced his customary long jacket, and his long auburn hair cascaded loosely over his hunched shoulders. With his face buried in his huddled knees, he looked for all the world like a lost child.

After an interminable moment, Gambit raised his head slightly, glowing red eyes peering at Wolverine from beneath a lowered brow.

"Ain' ya done enough fo' a night?"

Wolverine flinched, not because Gambit's tone was accusatory, but rather because the young man's pale skin was splotched red and his voice quavered as though he would burst into tears again at any moment. The old Canadian had seen many crazy things in his long life, but this still seemed unreal. For as much attention as he'd paid to the Cajun over the past week, he'd never been so close to him, close enough to be dizzied by the scent of spice and musk emanating from his lean body. Wolverine tried to hide his discomfort and spoke softly.

"Gum---Remy...he was about...he was gonna..._kill_ you..."

"Non! Ah cain...'e wasn't gonna...'e my friend!..._was_... " His eyes started to fill with tears. "You...you..." Gambit's shaking hand pointed to the dried blood covering the front of Wolverine's jeans. His jaw moved up and down for a few moments more, but no sound came out.

Wolverine cast about his whirring mind for something to say in his defense, but lit only upon the truth.

"Gambit...I _had_ to. You know that. _You_ saw. You know that I had to do it."

"Non, Ah don' know dat'!" Gambit screamed violently, bolting to his feet in front of Wolverine. "'e was dere, an' you..." The Cajun's voice rose to a pained shout and he wildly threw a balled fist toward the older mutant. Logan let the blow thud weakly into his chest, then watched as Gambit's arm limply returned to his side. Wolverine waited for another outburst, but the Cajun continued to stand quietly before him, head hanging down like a broken doll.

Staring at the young man in silence, Wolverine marveled at the ferociousness that could come from that usually glib and suave thief. He wanted to leave then -- to slip out the door to his peaceful room or the familiarity of a smoky bar -- anything to escape this problem that no amount of punching and slashing could solve, but he couldn't hide from himself the fact that Gambit was upset because of him. He searched for something to say -- consolatory, inflammatory or otherwise -- anything to rid himself of the feeling he was standing in a room with some wretched phantom.

Tentatively, Wolverine reached out a heavy hand toward Gambit's shoulder. He had no idea why, but he felt he needed to touch the Acadian, to bridge the gap between them.

"Gambit not 'ave nowhere ta go."

The whispered words stopped Wolverine cold. He felt them lingering in the air, more discomfiting than the long silence that preceded them. He left his arm hovering in front of him, irrationally thinking that if he didn't move, he might be able to go unnoticed.

Suddenly, the meaning of Gambit's words struck him. Looking around the room, Wolverine saw a number of small things had been piled next to a small backpack amidst the clutter. The backpack had obviously seen better days, or better years; the brown cloth was almost worn through in places and one of the straps had been torn off. On the floor next to the bag there were a few pictures and what appeared to be several folded letters.

_Just the kind of sentimental crap you'd take if you were gonna..._

Wolverine snapped to attention. Gambit was staring at him, his dark eyes expressionless, if not a little sad. Before that penetrating gaze, Wolverine found it difficult to voice the alarmed question in his mind.

"Gambit, what are ya..."

"Ah don' belong 'ere no more," Gambit whispered.

Wolverine felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. The younger man stared at him with brittle determination, eyes defying him to say a word, but not seeming to care either way. Logan found that he couldn't get angry, or even fight back. Any idiot could see Gambit was hurting behind his fiery eyes.

Wolverine felt close to tears himself, so great was his frustration.

_I'm trying to be nice, goddammit. Help me out here!_

"Gambit, I..." Wolverine began, but let his voice trail off. He didn't know what to say.

Not two feet in front of him stood a vibrant young man with whom he'd shared a house for nearly two years. They'd fought together countless times and shared numerous meals, yet until the past week, Wolverine had never paid him any special attention. But in those few days, he had learned more about Gambit than he suspected anyone else in the manor knew - enough to see that he wasn't always the confident suave gentleman he played around his teammates.

And Wolverine wanted him to stay. He'd quickly grown interested in the Cajun - he was so enigmatic and, admittedly, easy on the eyes - and something about him, perhaps his youth, made Wolverine feel instinctively protective. Briefly reflecting, he decided he'd have shredded even Jean Grey herself had she threatened Gambit in that dank bar.

He snapped from his reverie and returned his gaze to the now silent form in front of him. Though Gambit was at least a full head taller, the tenderness of his features still betrayed his youth, and his misery was plainly scrawled on his slim face.

_There's no way I'm letting him leave._

"Remy, it's gonna be OK..."

"Non!" Gambit screamed suddenly, clutching his head. "I's not gon' be OK. Ah gotta..."

"Gambit...It's over now. It's all gonna work out. Y'just gotta-"

"Non!" he screamed again. "Ah gotta..." Gambit glanced at his marred bag lying on the floor. "Don' belong 'ere...Ah gotta...non..."

"Kid, yer really tryin' my patience," Wolverine growled. "Now listen for a minute and stop babbling like a damn idiot."

Seeing he finally had Gambit's attention, the older man felt suddenly shy, but decided to continue forward with his awkward speech.

"I...you belong here, Gambit. Chuck took you in all those years ago and you've fought just as bravely as the rest of us. You're an X-Man. Look at that silly costume of yours. It's just as stupid Rogue's or mine or Cyke's...well, not that stupid..." Wolverine lowered his head, trying to get a clear view of Gambit's down-turned face. No smile.

_Ouch._

"Haven't you seen them these past few weeks? They've all been askin' if you're gonna eat with 'em an' tell stories. That one 'bout the gator's been circlin' around here for years it seems. And you fight like the devil. Maybe that's some Cajun mind set, huh? Never giving up?" Gambit turned his head a fraction to the right. Wolverine grinned.

"I've never seen anyone who can jump a twelve foot wall with only a pair of legs and a stick. You're unlike any of the rest of us. You're just as important as Jean or Cyclops. Hell, even the Professor. If it wasn't for your sneakin' ability, we'd have failed every mission we've been on. You think me chargin' in, screaming is a good idea? You're part of the team, Gambit. We wouldn't be the X-Men if it weren't for you."

Gambit stared forward.

"They need you here," he finished simply.

Wolverine wasn't sure what response he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't for Gambit to walk away. The Acadian stood near the window, his back to Wolverine.

"Get out," he whispered. "Leave me alone."

Having tried everything he knew how and then some, Wolverine was about to do just that when Gambit spoke again in a whisper so quiet most people couldn't have heard it, yet alone picked out the words.

"Leave me alone...again."

Without a second thought, Wolverine strode across the room. When Gambit turned to him, mouth open to yell in protest, Wolverine shot his hands out and slammed Gambit roughly against the wall.

Despite the ringing tension of the night, he was still surprise to see tears streaming down the younger man's face. With a firm hand, Wolverine turned Gambit's face to meet his own, but the Acadian staunchly kept his eyes on the floor.

Wolverine gently released the pressure on Gambit's shoulder and stepped backward. Almost immediately, the Cajun slumped to the floor as though his legs simply gave out beneath him.

Wolverine dropped down beside him and stretched his legs out.

"They all _care_ about ya, kiddo," he said kindly.

Gambit lifted his head from between his legs and stared at Wolverine. His lips parted slightly and he looked as if he didn't understand the words, or maybe was waiting for something more. The clarity of pain and hurt on his fine-boned face tugged at Wolverine's heartstrings.

When Wolverine spoke again, he heard himself as if from miles away.

"I..."

_Oh, Jesus..._

"I care about you."

For an instant, Gambit remained frozen, and Wolverine wondered whether his confession had been heard at all. Suddenly Gambit's face broke and he began to sob aloud, letting himself fall over against Wolverine's hard body.

Wolverine tentatively hooked his arm behind Gambit and began to gently rub his back, listening to the muffled sobs and watching tears run rivulets down the front of his worn jacket.

He cried like a lost child, sometimes mumbling into the thick leather, but mostly just weeping with his arms wrapped tightly around Wolverine's chest.

Gradually Gambit's shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing grew steadier. Wolverine relaxed slightly and let his eyes travel about the dim room. He usually found the stark paneled walls of the manor stifling, but, for a moment, feeling the heat of the young man clinging to him and taking in his warm spicy scent, Wolverine felt a pervading sense of peace.

_Maybe this place ain't so bad after all. I think we're both home._

The room became almost silent and Wolverine turned his gaze back to Gambit, letting the long cinnamon hair brush his nose. Suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his leg, and looked to see the young thief tracing delicate fingers along the cracks in the blood crusted on Wolverine's jeans.

Wolverine was reluctant to move, worried he might upset Gambit once again when he was obviously thinking about Nicholas. But then, much to his surprise, Gambit turned to him, locking his burning red eyes on Wolverine's blue ones.

"Merci."


	5. Domestication

Title: Long Way Down  
Authors: M/G & B/C  
Rating: G – this chapter's vanilla  
Disclaimer: I'm just a little kid playing with dollies - no profit to be had. So don't sue me: I'm cute.  
Author's Note: This is part 5 of an 8 part story. After this point, I cannot guarantee the regularity of the final postings. I'm rather busy, you know!

Jean stared at the five cards that she had just been dealt.

"Dis 'ere is an ol' Cajun car' game Gambit use' t'play. It call' Boureé," he explained in his lilting voice. "We use' t'put up an ante, but you jus' learnin', so..."

Scott, sitting next to Jean, positioned his cards, arranging them by suit. To the left of Gambit, Wolverine stared dumbly at his hand. He looked lost. Jean couldn't figure out why Wolverine had decided to play with them when Gambit suggested it, but she was pleased that he did.

They had all just finished eating their dinner. Jean was delighted by the fact that Gambit had dined with them. He'd even engaged in conversation, telling the bewildered X-Men how he used to catch crayfish. And after he helped Jean with the dishes, he offered to teach them a new card game. Scott naturally teamed up with Jean, but Gambit needed a partner. He asked Wolverine, who had unenthusiastically agreed, though he more than once tried to convince the group to just play poker instead.

Gambit flipped the top card of the deck onto the table. It was the Ace of Spades.

"Well, well," he chirped. "Now, see, spades is da' trum'."

Jean tried to suppress a smile after she figured out that he was trying to say 'trump'. She had never heard Gambit talk this much and was just now learning his unique brand of English.

"Now, Wolverine, you hav'ta' say if you wan' play," Gambit said.

Wolverine scratched his head. "Uh..."

Gambit leaned over, looking at his cards. He pointed one of his thin fingers at a nine of spades.

"Yeah, you wan' play."

"All right."

Scott sighed. "I'll pass."

Gambit nodded. "_Moi aussi_. Gambit 'ave t'pass, too."

Jean had a three of spades. "Sure, I'm in."

"Now, Wolverine, 'ow many car's you wan'?" Gambit asked, silently mouthing 'one' to him with a conspiratorial grin.

"Um, one." Wolverine grunted.

"I'll take one, too," Jean called.

Gambit gave them each a card and peered over to look at Wolverine's. "Oh, you lucky." Wolverine had drawn a four of spades. "Y'ave two trum's. Wha' you got, _Jeanne_?"

"Still just one." She showed him her hand.

"Wolverine an' Gambit win! Nice work, _ami_."

_'Ami'? _Jean didn't have to search through her limited French vocabulary for long before she found the translation.

_Friend. He called Logan his friend_

She smiled at the discovery.

The group played a few more hands until they were tired of the somewhat dull game. They all agreed that it was time for bed, anyway.

"G'ni't. O' as we say _en_ _Français, Bonne nuit_," Gambit said, on his way up the stairs.

Jean smiled. Not because she particularly cared how to say 'good night' in French, but because Gambit seemed to be warming up to them. After all these years of partnership, it seemed like he now thought of them as...

..._well, partners_.

Jean stretched and went up to her room, pondering the strange traits of this new Gambit.

She awoke the next morning to the sound of children's laughter. Jean rolled out of her bed and walked to the window, opening the blinds. She squinted in the harsh morning sunlight that reflected off of the snow, but soon saw Gambit chasing some of the children up a small hill behind the mansion. They all carried sleds to the top and rode them down the slope.

Jean laughed as Gambit attempted to sled down the mound, but fell out and tumbled all the way to the bottom. The children ran after him and jumped on him, sending great plumes of snow into the air. She could hear his muffled laughter through the window. She had never expected to hear Gambit laugh. It was nice.

She got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast. From the kitchen, she heard Gambit and the kids enter. She poked her head out to greet him.

"Good morning, Gambit. What is that? _Bonne..._?"

"_Bonne matin_," Gambit said.

Jean repeated the words.

"But yo' accen'...You jus' stick t'English, _chère_," Gambit said, with a smile.

Jean chuckled. "Are you going to want some breakfast?" she asked the Cajun.

"Oh, I dunno. We see. But t'anks."

With that, he gracefully ran up the stairs to his room.

Once the overwhelming scent of eggs and bacon wafted through the mansion, the mutants started to arrive. Beast walked into the kitchen, followed by Wolverine.

"Ah, breakfast," Beast cooed. "Of course, you all know that it's the single most important meal of the day. Your body needs to replenish the calories and nutrients you burn off while sleeping and it must be-"

Wolverine rose a hand to cut him off, a faint smile on his lips. "Thanks, doc."

Beast chuckled heartily, grabbing a plate of fluffy yellow eggs and crisp bacon. "Thank you very much, Jean. It looks delectable."

Jean smiled. "The eggs are just how you like them, Hank. Enjoy."

"I'm sure I will." He flashed her a toothy grin and sat down at the table next to Cyclops who had already begun to eat.

"Are you going to eat with us, Logan?" she asked as Wolverine approached her.

"Naw, I was just gonna go upstairs with it," he explained.

"Oh, all right. Um...do you know if Gambit is going to come down?"

"I don't think so," Wolverine responded.

Jean nodded, slightly disappointed.

Wolverine grabbed two steaming plates, then gave her a dismissive shrug as he backed out of the saloon doors, arms rigidly holding the dishes in front of him.

"See ya later," Wolverine called on his way out.

Jean lowered her eyebrows in confusion.

_He must be hungry._

But then it dawned on her.

_Oh. Right. 'Ami'._

The alarm buzzed and the room turned dark. The group cautiously paced through the debris strewn across the deserted street. Gambit's eyes cut through the darkness and he could see everything. He warned the blinded mutants of objects in their path and navigated them through the maze of garbage. A deafening crash erupted in front of them and the lights turned on.

"_Merde_," cursed Gambit, rubbing his eyes; it took longer for him to adjust from darkness to light.

The creature in front of the X-Men roared, the sound reverberating all around them. A 15-foot tall monster broke through the asphalt street and stepped into full view. The creature was green, speckled brown, and had a long snout with an overbite, exposing razor-sharp fangs. It raised one of its clawed hands and swatted at the mutants.

Cyclops, Wolverine and Jean jumped out of the way and the grotesque fist crashed into the street. Beast hopped onto the limb and ran to the behemoth's head. He latched onto the two antennae that sprouted from its crown. A hard tug earned an agonized shriek from the creature.

Still writhing, trying to throw off its tormentor, the monster's tail slithered up behind Beast. Gambit saw it and shouted at Beast to look out. Beast spun around, seeing the tail, and jumped off just as it swiped past him.

"Thanks, friend!" Beast yelled.

"_De rien_."

The monster's tail swung at the X-Men again, this time making a wide sweep at knee level. Wolverine tried to approach but was knocked down with a grunt. Rogue, too, was felled when the creature snapped its tail like a whip, successfully protecting itself from the flying mutant Gambit leaped over the thrashing tail like a jump rope several times without concern. Suddenly his face brightened.

"Gambit got an idea!" he shouted. "Wolverine, Ah'll distract it an' you take care o' dat tail!"

"You got it, Gumbo."

The young Acadian pulled his staff from inside his long coat and ran at the monster, extending the bo at the last moment to vault himself right past the creature's eyes. He turned in midair, landing on the far side of the room and finding, to his delight, that he had his enemy's full attention. Without missing a beat, the Cajun jumped the monster's sweeping claw, then thrust a gloved hand into his inside jacket pocket and threw a handful of burning cards at its snarling mouth. The explosion hid the creature's face, but didn't silence the agonized growl emanating from the cloud of smoke.

"Now!"

Wolverine rushed around to the back of the monster and unsheathed his claws.

"Time to slice and dice," he hissed through clenched teeth. He brought his claws down into the monster's realistic hide. He made a clean cut and the tail fell off. The creature screamed.

Gambit yelled in triumph. "Now, Rogue, you go an' hol' him still so Cyclops can take care a' him."

Rogue flew behind the monster and held onto one of the spikes jutting from its back. It began to thrash wildly. Cyclops placed a hand on his visor.

"C'mon, sugah!" she called. "Ah ain't gettin' any younger!"

"Here we go!" he yelled.

A red beam shot from his eyes, filling the street scene with a blinding light. The energy beam hit the monster in the face and, with one last growl, it fell over. The team clapped and cheered. The holographic creature and setting melted away.

"Well done, X-Men!" Xavier exclaimed over the intercom. The team looked through a window near the top of the room and saw him clapping. "Gambit, your leadership and initiative have most certainly improved. That is probably what made this exercise a success."

Gambit blushed and thanked the Professor.

Jean frowned.

_He definitely wouldn't have taken charge like that a week ago_.

The team ordered a dozen pizzas to celebrate their day in the Danger Room. After it arrived, they took it into the living room and talked about the tactics they used in the exercise.

"So, what made you think of that Gambit? Distracting the monster like that?" Jean asked him.

"Oh, _oui_, one time, Ah was rowin' down the bayou in a li'l boa' and dis' big ol' gator, must'a been twelve fee' long, jumped up outta da water an' into my boa'. I had ta get 'im out 'bu he wouldn't le' me near 'im. So, I grabbed an oar and smacked 'is tail. He spun around an' bit 'da oar and den Gambit jump' on top of 'im and threw 'im back in 'da water."

Jean sat back with a slice of pizza and listened to the rest of the men boasting, trying to beat the Cajun's adventurous tale.

_I don't know what has made him act this way, but I hope he lets us in on his secret soon._

Wolverine mounted the stairs slowly, taking especial care not to spill the contents of the heavily laden tray. He focused his attention on a tall glass of orange juice, full to the brim and threatening to overflow with the slightest imbalance. He smirked wryly at the thought of such a dangerous domestic mishap.

But not one second later, he missed a step and stubbed a bare toe against the hard mahogany. Wolverine cursed loudly, once for his throbbing toe, and again for the orange juice soaking his hand and sleeve.

"Everything all right, Logan?" Jean called sweetly from the kitchen.

"Oh, just fine," Wolverine growled in reply, and continued up the staircase, taking care not to slip in the puddle of orange juice.

He heard Gambit's muffled laughter from inside his room and felt his face growing red. Still, Wolverine couldn't help but smile. He enjoyed his daily breakfast with the young mutant; he found himself anxiously anticipating the comfort of the warm bright room and Gambit's cheerful smile as he chattered and told stories as though he had just yesterday been a boisterous young boy in the bayou.

Logan was still grinning as he pushed open Gambit's door with his foot, moving slowly to keep his balance with the breakfast tray.

"Soun's like you 'ad ta fight for breakfast today, non?"

Logan grunted an answer and kicked the door shut. Turning into the room, he found it impossible to maintain a petulant face. Gambit was sitting on the floor in his black silk pajamas, casually reclined against the wall with his legs askew, somehow managing to make the unforgiving wood seem comfortable. His red eyes danced and a knowing smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, not alluv us get our grub brought in on a silver platter, Gumbo."

"An' not all of us is fool enough to play garçon at 8 o'clock in da mornin'."

"Ya wanna deal with them idiots in the kitchen, be my guest. Just watch the stairs. Slippery when wet, ya know."

"Denn if Gambit fall an break 'is leg, you 'afta take care of 'im, non?"

Wolverine raised an eyebrow, but Gambit just grinned mischievously.

_Is he...flirting with me?_

But Gambit didn't give him any time to think. A natural enemy of awkward silences, he immediately dove into the tale of his first day at the Xavier Institute.

"And Cyclops, 'e come out ta da car and shook _my_ 'and like 'e wanted ta break it right off..."

Wolverine tried to concentrate on the story, but he couldn't shake the thought from his mind.

_I know he hits on every miniskirt that walks by, but I ain't never heard him talk like that to a guy._

_But he hasn't had any close friends around._

_But that smile..._

_But he brushed it all off so damn fast._

_But maybe he was just nervous?_

Wolverine coughed to hide his laughter at the thought.

_Not that I'd mind. It's not like the kid's hard on the eyes, or anything._

_Though he's my first friend since..._

He picked up a piece of crisp bacon and gnawed it thoughtfully.

_...Mariko._

Gambit rambled on, letting his breakfast grow cold, as it did most every morning. Wolverine poked absently at his eggs as he let his gaze drift about the room.

Most of the mutants had taken the time to personalize their plain, dorm-sized chambers: even Wolverine, though always on the road, kept some of his favored relics scattered about the floor and walls. But Gambit's room was as stark and empty as the day he moved in. No nail holes marred the white painted walls, and the morning sun reflected brightly off the bare polished floor. In fact, the few furnishings – a twin bed and small dresser – had never even been taken from their respective corners. If Gambit disappeared, it would be impossible to tell he'd ever been in Westchester.

_He's the only thing that keeps my attention in here._

Gambit really did seem to steal the show, whether he was telling a story of his adventurous youth or merely sitting around in his PJs. Even at such an early hour he was captivating: his hair was in stylish disarray and his alien eyes danced as he spoke. His lips parted and closed rapidly, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up in a perpetual half-smile.

_No wonder he's such a lady's man. Hell, I'd probably even kiss 'im._

Wolverine smirked as he imagined the awkward scene. A stunned Cajun charging a lamp and hurtling it at him as he scrambled out the door laughing like a maniac. He was so lost in his reverie, he only barely noticed Gambit's voice had trailed off and the melodic patter had stopped.

Wolverine blinked away the visions and saw that the Cajun was staring at him. A grin slowly appeared at the corners of Gambit's mouth over the fifteen seconds of silence. Wolverine straightened his back deliberately and cleared his throat.

"_Oui_," Logan grunted in mock obligatory response.

Gambit's left eyebrow lowered, and Wolverine gulped.

_Aw, crap..._

But suddenly, Gambit erupted in laughter, falling on his side and nearly upsetting his breakfast tray.

"Oh, _homme_, you a-" He giggled again. "You a laugh riot!"

_Whew._

The Cajun attempted to compose himself, but one look at Wolverine's perplexed expression set him off again, and Wolverine couldn't help but grin at his merriment. Wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, Gambit finally managed to find his voice.

"But really, Logan, what were you starin' at ole Gambit for? Is dere syrup on my face?"

Confronted by Gambit's smile and mischievous eyes, Wolverine felt his cheeks growing red. He snatched his glass to conceal his face and drained it, using every moment to scrabble for a reasonable answer.

"No...uh...I was...just wondering. If you wanted to...um...hit the bars tonight. Ya know. Me and you."

His cheeks were aflame. Gambit's red eyes danced devilishly.

"Is dat a date, homme?"

"Whatever, Cassanova."

Gambit just laughed.


	6. Flower

Title: Long Way Down  
Authors: M/G & B/C  
Rating: PG – violence is not for children  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. 'cept for maybe Mia. Please don't take my Mia from me. Also, I am not getting a penny for this. But a million pennies of happiness, oh yes.

Logan came stomping down the stairs carrying a tray holding nothing but empty dishes. The silverware clanged sharply against the ceramic bowls with each step and Jean, sitting on the couch, turned her head to see. She looked at the dishes and smiled at Logan.

"What are you up to, Logan?" Jean inquired.

"What? Nothin'. Just bringin' these down," Logan nodded to the tray and headed to the kitchen.

Jean turned back to face the unlit fireplace and pretended to read her book. She was laughing on the inside. _Logan has been spending a lot of time with Gambit...it's so—_her thoughts were cut off by another. She received an image of the Professor with Cerebro, and two seconds later, Xavier's voice boomed throughout the complex from the intercom system.

"Attention, X-Men. Attention. I have pinpointed another mutant child. All capable X-Men report to the Blackbird at once!"

Jean jumped as Logan bolted out of the kitchen, the saloon doors swinging wildly behind him. He grazed one of the end tables, making a vase wobble for several seconds before plummeting to the floor with a crash. The Wolverine didn't even look back, continuing on his journey to his room to don his costume. Jean was already climbing the stairs to the women's wing.

Logan reached the upstairs hallway and began to dash toward his room at the end of the row, but was stopped short when he ran squarely into Gambit as the fully-clad Cajun exited his room. Both mutants grunted in surprise, but Wolverine was already thundering down the hallway again.

"C'mon, _mon ami_!" Gambit yelled after him.

Gambit watched as Logan disappeared in his room, then pulled his collar up to cover his neck as he gracefully descended the staircase. Nightcrawler materialized in a gray smoke in front of him.

"Are you ready, Gambit?" he hissed in his thick German accent, looking at the Cajun over his shoulder as he scrambled forward on all fours.

"Gambit gon' kick some tail!" Gambit prophesized, smiling with a coolness he didn't feel.

_Hol' on petit..._

The two mutants opened a large door and hurried down a long flight of stone stairs to the hangar, where the Blackbird hummed electrically. Cyclops could be seen in the cockpit, pressing buttons and flipping switches. Nightcrawler and Gambit bounded up the ramp and were greeted by Rogue and Iceman who had apparently just arrived as well, both in uniform. Cyclops turned around from his seat at the control panel. "Gambit, Nightcrawler. Who are we still missing? Oh... Wolverine." Scott's voice belied his lack of surprise.

The controls in front of Cyclops beeped. The Professor had just sent the coordinates. "Looks like we're going to an abandoned factory about 150 miles northeast of here, everyone."

Wolverine entered the aircraft, putting on his left glove as he strode up the aisle.

"Good of you to join us, Logan," Scott stated laconically.

"Yeah, sure, no problem, Cyke. Do you have our seating chart done or can I just sit here?" Logan didn't wait for an answer, taking the chair behind Cyclops.

"Don't you have something useful to do?" Cyclops asked.

"Than to be near you, Cyke? Nada thing in the world!"

"Stop it, both of you," Jean came in, sitting next to Scott and examing the Professor's instructions.

"I'm sorry, Jean," Scott said contritely.

Logan snorted audibly.

_Baby. Don't wanna make his honey mad._

Scott looked back at the crew. "Hey, where's Bea—"

Beast leaped into the Blackbird. "Better late than never. I apologize for my belated arrival. I had to be sure that Storm was stable in the Infirmary."

Scott raised his eyebrows behind his visor. "She's still not feeling well?"

"Well, she has been reporting symptoms suggestive of a serious concussion. I fear I may have released her too early the last time. Still, it is best if she remains off her feet for the time being."

"I trust you'll have her back with us in no time," he said to the older man, then turned to address his team. "All right, everyone. I believe everything is ready. We're about to take off."

"Not without me," a voice called from the ramp.

"Professor!" the team shouted in unison.

Xavier wheeled his way into the cockpit, next to Cyclops.

"Professor, are you sure? If we happen to get into battle, you might be of better help to us at the mansion," Cyclops suggested tentatively, not wanting to offend the older man.

"Scott, I believe I can be of immense help on the field. If you do indeed face Sinister and his team again, I will attempt to search the minds of his followers for the whereabouts of the children they have taken. If we lose this child as well, we will have nothing to do but sit and wait until another young life is in danger," Xavier responded equably.

"You're right, Professor." Scott frowned, his cheeks reddening slightly.

Logan grinned.

With the engines finally warmed, the Blackbird lifted from the ground, ramp detracting beneath it. The overpowering drone of the jet shook the hangar and the metal doors in front of the craft parted, revealing a gray sky overrun with clouds. The Blackbird shot out of the pen with a deafening roar.

The Blackbird arrived at its destination within three minutes and landed in a parking lot behind the warehouse. The craft touched the ground gently, frail snowflakes disappearing as they touched the dark metal. The eightmutants stepped out into the chilly air and assembled at the foot of the ramp. Professor Xavier remained inside, prepared to fly the ship back to Salem in the case of an emergency.

The neighborhood surrounding them had become a familiar sight. Garbage cans and dumpsters lined the lot, looking only slightly less dilapidated than the tall brick apartment buildings behind them. Few of the windows had curtains, but Wolverine still felt he was being watched. His eyes darted around the enclosed lot, searching some silent, invisible predator.

Cyclops frowned at Wolverine's obvious lack of respect and attention. He cleared his throat deliberately and waited for Logan to face the front. Finally satisfied, Cyclops stopped pacing and confidently addressed his team: "I know things seem quiet, but we all need to keep in mind that this is a dangerous area and Sinister and his goons could show up at any time. Keep your eyes peeled! Remember, everyone, we're here to _protect_ a civilian. Not to participate in a war." He glared at Logan who smirked back at him.

The group cautiously approached a metal door leading into the run down warehouse. It was large; at least three stories high. Rust crept down the sides of the building giving a spot of color to the bland outer covering.

Logan quickly approached the door, pressing his head against the coldness. His heightened sense of hearing picked up the shuffling of footsteps behind the door. He nodded to the rest of the team. Cyclops stood in front of the doorway and raised his right hand to his visor as Gambit held the doorknob. With a nod from Cyclops, Gambit pushed the door open. Nothing.

The team filed in cautiously, inspecting every detail of their surroundings. Every inch of the building had at least one pair of mutant eyes on it. Pipes of all colors ran the length of the ceiling, all of them rusted. One large pipe had broken and fallen to the floor near the back of the bare depot. Windows ran along the top of the factory, the meager light making shadows dance malevolently across the concrete floor, while a tangled web of catwalks spread across the upper level. The thick walls did nothing to keep out the cold, Wolverine noted.

_Something's living in here?_

He continued sniffing the air and caught the scent of...someone.

_We ain't alone._

He waved the team to follow him and they rounded a corner, finding an old cardboard box that swayed slightly for a moment and abruptly stopped. The X-Men stopped too, unsure of how to approach the box or of who should do it. They glanced at each other, seeing confusion on every other face. Bobby tested his powers, sending unneeded cold to surround the team and earning him a barrage of anger stares. After an eternity of indecision, Gambit decisively brought a card out of his coat. The Ace of Spades. It glowed faintly red.

The Cajun's silent feet neared the box and with one swift movement, he lifted the lifted it away – and froze. Before him was a girl, huddling against a tattered yellow blanket. Her clothes alone told how long she had been in there. Her jeans had numerous holes; both knees were exposed and the cuffs were frayed. She wore a threadbare black sweater which left her thin white shoulder exposed to the cold air -- hardly enough to keep her warm in the New England winter. Incongruously, a pristine, red ribbon was tied snuggly around her milky neck.

Gambit carefully tossed the card behind him and backed away. Nobody seemed to know how to approach the girl. She hadn't looked up from her blanket since the box was removed. She seemed to be waiting for the nightmare invaders to disappear on their own.

Wolverine finally stepped forward. He looked the huddled figure up and down once more.

_What, 12? Maybe 13?_

She was incredibly pale and thin. But there was also a desperate vigor in her small body.

Quite suddenly, the old mutant felt nervous and quietly tried to clear his throat. "I ain't gonna hurtcha, kid. Jus' c'mere," Wolverine rasped, reaching his massive hand out to grab her shoulder. The young girl gasped and slid backward as though she had just woken up. She stared at the burly man in front of her with undisguised terror. Wolverine grunted in frustration. Dealing with children was by no means his forte. He turned and walked to the wall, leaning against it with his arms folded. He was perfectly content to let someone else handle the diplomacy.

Chuckling to himself at Wolverine's disgruntlement, Gambit took two long strides toward the girl and crouched down. He was only a few feet from her, but she no longer had a place to run and could only clutch her blanket more tightly and hide her face. Gambit smiled softly. She was adorable. Her jet black hair was cut at chin length and wrapped around her face like a toddler clutches a teddy bear. Her enormous brown eyes were beautiful and might be even more so were they not so possessed by fear.

"Aw, don' be scared, _petite_. We not gonna 'urtcha," he assured, keeping his eyes on the young mutant.

"Secure the perimeter!" barked Cyclops, who had suddenly found his voice and remembered that they could still be in danger.

Nightcrawler evaporated in a gray vapor and reappeared twenty feet above on the rafters, where he began scurrying from window to window. Iceman went to one of the three heavy metal door and peeked out. Finding nothing of interest, he proceeded to the next door, sliding on his own ice paths. Rogue smiled at his self-indulgence and then flew to the top of the warehouse to look out one of the windows beside Nightcrawler for any sign of danger. Beast climbed the rafters following her.

"Wha's yo' name, _petite_?" Gambit asked in a friendly voice.

The girl, who had uncurled to watch the X-Men scrambling through the building, turned back toward the man who had spoken. She inspected him with childish care, but found no sign of danger in his red eyes or pleasant smile. She frowned slightly, considering his question, and, for a moment, Gambit thought she might not answer at all.

"Mia," she said simply, in a voice that was surprisingly strong and confident.

Remy let loose a genuine smile and reached down to grab her hand. She grasped her blanket with her left and his large fingers with her right. He helped her stand and wrapped his arm around her. "Gambit s'my name. C'mon, chère. We gon' get you some food. You mus' be 'ungry, _non_?"

Mia looked up into Gambit's open face. She didn't even come up to the big man's shoulder, but she felt safe holding onto his strong hand. She tried to suppress a smile. "A little."

"Dats great! We can have a feas' when we get back!"

"Where are we going?" Mia inquired.

"_Chère_, you gon' love it! S'a big house wit' games an' food an' nice people to keep ya company. Jus' you wait!"

He led her away from the box, slowing his strides to match her own small steps. Cyclops smiled, observing the two chattering and grinning as they strolled along. Wolverine, arms crossed, frowned as he watched everyone depart.

_What the...? How'd he do that?_

He shook his head and began to trail the rest. He glanced back once more at the box where Mia had made her shelter and noticed something. A yellow flower, poking out of the floor. Logan cocked his eyebrows.

_I ain't no...flower scientist, but a flower? Growing in this cold? Outta the concrete?_

He gave a brief snort of laughter, then shrugged it off as he walked after the rest of the team.

"Okay, everyone! Great work! Let's get word back to the Professor and get out of here," Scott declared, confidently. Jean hovered down to the floor and Beast jumped alongside her, landing with a thud. Rogue bit her lip, staring out at window at the empty white expanse of snow. With a last worried glance, she joined the others on the main floor. Nightcrawler and Iceman were walking toward the entrance when a sudden noise stopped them. A door on the opposite end of the compound burst open, sending in the whistle of wind, and they turned to see outlined a figure, contrasted black against the falling snow.

"Oh, no. No, you're not going anywhere," a familiar voice hissed. "The girl is ours." A tall man, light reflecting off his fanged grin, approached from the doorway.

_Sinister._

The X-Men, knowing their mission was complete, quickly tried to escape, heading for the door leading to the Blackbird. They burst through it and were greeted by the immense form of Sabretooth blocking the far-too-long path leading to the craft.

"Coming this way?" he called with a wicked smile.

"Sabretooth!" Wolverine extended his six claws. "Get back in there. Find a safe place for the kid and fight!"

_Fight? And protect a little girl? _Cyclops rapidly mulled over his options and decided that there wasn't a choice. "Yes. Everyone back inside! Gambit, stay with Mia! Don't let her out of your sight!"

"You got it, _mon capitain_," he shouted suavely at his leader. Then he turned to Mia and smiled conspiratorially. "We be fine, _petite_. Ol' Gambit not gon' let anythin' happen to ya. They jus' gonna make a big fuss an' then we get you some warm food."

Mia returned the smile nervously. She wasn't sure what was going on, but Gambit was confident enough. She held his hand tightly and waited for him to tell her what to do.

Wolverine ignored the rest of the team and bolted through the door toward Sabretooth, snarling visciously. When Xavier was sure they were occupied, he rolled up the ramp of the Blackbird and hid in the cockpit. He exhaled deeply and placed both hands at his temples.

The X-Men re-entered the building just as Blockbuster came crashing through the wall behind Sinister. Vertigo leaped down from one of the windows up top, landing on Blockbuster's left shoulder. Riptide and Scrambler walked from Blockbuster's new doorway. Plague brought up the rear, carefully stepping through the debris wearing a heartless grin.

"My, my. This is familiar. But no Storm? And I must ask, how is your ankle, Jean?" Sinister asked smoothly.

Jean's lips curled into a snarl and Scott stepped forward. "Back off, Sinister. You're not taking the girl without a fight!"

Ignoring the banter, Gambit bundled Mia under his coat and guided her to a dark corner behind a cluster of pipes. Even from the distance, he could see the razor glint of Sinister's smile.

"Very well," he thundered.

The two opposing forces ran at each other, screaming, preparing their powers for battle.

Cyclops fired a red energy beam from his visor hitting Blockbuster square in his massive gut.

"That tickles," Blockbuster boomed. "Do it again."

Blockbuster slammed his fists on the ground, causing a shockwave to erupt throughout the building. The X-Men fell to their knees. The evil mutants, known as The Marauders, ran to the fallen X-Men. Blockbuster approached Beast, who, like the rest, quickly jumped to his feet. Blockbuster threw his fist in Beast's direction. The agile blue mutant smoothly jumped over it and landed on the brute's shoulders, kicking him in the face. Blockbuster spun in circles, growling, trying to throw Beast off. Beast back-flipped from the mutant's shoulder, landing on his feet next to a stacked pile of metal crates.

"I'll teach you not to anger Blockbuster!" the angry mutant shouted. He ran towards Beast.

Beast looked at the crates. "'Personally I'm always ready to learn...'" He kicked the bottom crate out as Blockbuster neared, sending the four on top of it clattering onto Blockbuster with a crash that echoed throughout the warehouse. "'...although I do not always like being taught.'" Beast smiled. "Sir Winston Churchill."

Back at the Blackbird, Professor Xavier closed his eyes and began probing the mind of the nearest mutant, Sabretooth.

Embroiled in his fight with Wolverine, Sabretooth suddenly clutched his head and screamed. He knew Xavier was poking around in there. "Get out!" Wolverine got a free shot to Sabretooth's gut, causing him to stumble back.

Xavier found only distorted images of a laboratory and many pictures of Wolverine. He moved his mind inside, finding Vertigo. She wasn't much help either. The Professor mostly saw images of Vertigo when she was with the X-Men in the Savage Land. _Nothing here, either_

Rogue and Iceman had their own problems with Riptide. Iceman fired a stream ice from his hand, but Riptide spun out of the way. The mutant spun so fast that the wind from him actually knocked Rogue out of the air and sent Bobby sliding into a concrete wall. "Heads up!" the tornado called.

Four shurikens shot out of the twister with incomprehensible speed, pinning Bobby's arms and legs to the wall, missing his skin by a hair. The cyclone slowed and stopped and Riptide casually walked to the immobile X-Men, laughing. He balled his hand into a fist and raised it. He swung it down by was stopped by Rogue, who swooped in front of Iceman and grabbed Riptide's fist, throwing it away. Using her inhuman strength she picked up Riptide and tossed him across the building, slamming into the concrete wall on the other side. With this free time, she tore the ninja stars from Bobby's uniform, freeing him. But the mutant in the cyclone returned, sending the two X-Men flying into the air once more. They tumbled to the ground on opposite sides of the warehouse.

Nightcrawler faced off against Scrambler. The X-Man vanished and reappeared at random, hoping to throw his opponent off guard. Scrambler, trying to keep his eyes on him, found himself nearly tripping over his own feet. Utilizing the advantage, Nightcrawler dropped him to the floor with a square kick to the back. Scrambler picked himself up in a flash, however, and gently touched Nightcrawler's hand.

"Uh oh," he teased.

Nightcrawler looked at his hand puzzled. But then he realized what was happening when he tried to dematerialize and couldn't. Scrambler had halted his power usage! Nightcrawler raised his fists, as did Scrambler.

Nightcrawler threw the first punch which Scrambler easily blocked with his arm, mimicking Nightcrawler's move and hitting the blue mutant in the stomach. Nightcrawler doubled over, groaning and was hit in the neck by Scrambler's elbow. Nightcrawler laid on the floor in a fetal position. Scrambler walked over, smiling. In an instant, Nightcrawler sent his leg hurtling out, contacting with Scrambler's feet. The two mutants were on the ground next to each other, but only for a moment. Nightcrawler once again swung at Scrambler with his fist but was countered by Scrambler's foot in his sternum. Nightcrawler, robbed of his air, was powerless to stop Scrambler's rapid assult. After a blow to the mouth, a kick to the stomach and knee to the head that left the blue mutant immobile on the floor, Scrambler laughed and ran away.

Nightcrawler stayed down.

Rogue, groggily stood up. Riptide had disappeared, but not thirty feet in front of her, Sinister was watching the mêlée, back turned away from Rogue. An idea suddenly dawned on her, and she cautiously stalked up behind him, removing her right glove as she went. When she was within arm's reach, she silently leaned forward and pressed her bare hand to Sinister's forehead. A sensation passed into her arm and then her entire body. It was a tingle at first and then turned into an intolerable, sharp pain. She started to convulse and screamed. Sinister pulled away.

"You _fool_!" He smacked her with the back of his hand, sending her soaring across the warehouse. She hit the concrete wall and fell to the floor, unconscious.

Professor Xavier capitalized on Sinister's brief lapse in concentration. With a single, forceful mental thrust, the powerful psychic broke into Sinister's mind. Knowing he had little time to find the information he sought, Xavier rapidly scanned through Sinister's thoughts and memories. He glimpsed images of what appeared to be Gambit as a young boy, Storm imprisoned in a small brick room and three children in a metal cell, deep underground in southern Maine.

Sinister frowned as he watched the battle, and cast a suspicious glance at the X-Man craft.

Cyclops shot a beam at Vertigo who dodged it with graceful ease. She lifted her arms into the air and Scott suddenly felt dizzy. He clutched at his head and stumbled. Vertigo smiled and walked towards him.

"What's the matter? Your world turning upside down?"

Cyclops felt he was going to be sick. He fell to his knees, groaning. Jean ran in front of him, guarding him from Vertigo.

"Oh, you, too?" Her arms rose again and Jean felt the same dizziness. There were two Vertigos. Two Scotts. Two of everything. Vertigo ran towards her and, before she could comprehend what was happening, a high-heeled boot connected with her chest.

Scott looked at the ceiling. He could see a blotched spot of whiteness where the windows would be.

"Jean...?" he groaned.

And into his view, came Plague's face. He couldn't tell for sure, but she seemed to grin.

"What's the matter, deary? You look like you're getting a touch of the flu," she crooned. Her hand reached down towards Cyclops.

He saw it. _No! Don't let her touch you..._but he couldn't move a muscle. He was too weak. And as he saw that hand reach down to him, time seemed to stop. He called out to Jean, but he never heard his voice. The warmth of the hand touched Scott's mouth. The direct contact didn't feel odd to him at all. But seconds later his stomach began to turn again, sending acrid bile into his throat. He swallowed reluctantly. After that, he began to feel achy; the cold ground made it worse. He felt like a million needles were sticking into his body. He moaned and tried to move away from the pain, but he seemed to be cemented to the floor. Sweat began to form on his brow, though he was freezing. His skin flushed. He wanted only to sleep. And when he blinked, that's exactly what he did.

Outside with the gathering snow, Wolverine swung a clawed hand at Sabretooth who caught it in his arms.

"What's the matter, old man? Losing your touch?" he rasped.

"Old? Look who's talkin', bub!" Wolverine shot back. He kicked his foot into Sabretooth's shin, allowing him to pull back his grasped hand.

Sabretooth growled, running at Wolverine with a raised, clawed fist. Wolverine jumped clear over the creature, kicking him in the back on his way down.

Sabretooth stumbled, sliding on the new snow but stayed on his feet. He turned back to Wolverine with a snarl on his lips.

Inside, Gambit watched the chaos from the dark corner. Mia huddled against him, face buried in his side. He knew the hiding place wouldn't remain safe for long. His mind rapidly searched for an escape route, eyes finally lighting on the side door of the warehouse.

_The alley! _

"Doan worry, _petite_. We gonna get out now," he whispered, gathering Mia into his arms and rising.

"I can walk myself." Mia's muffled voice came from inside of Gambit's jacket.

"S'okay, _chérie_. You not dat heavy," Gambit said lightly, glancing down at the bundle of silky black legs and spindly white legs.

"No!" Mia said loudly and began squirming in Gambit's arms.

Rather than argue with the young girl, Gambit carefully lowered her to the ground.

"Take my 'and petite."

Mia pursed her lips in a childish look of determination and nodded her head decisively.

Slowly, he and Mia, holding hands, emerged from their hiding place. Making sure no one saw them, Gambit led Mia to the door, beyond which Wolverine's growls could be clearly heard. They opened the door and were temporarily blinded by the whiteness of the world. As their vision adjusted, the two saw Wolverine and Sabretooth engaged in ferocious combat. Gambit veered toward the alley. "Dis way, Mia!"

As the two departed down the brick alley, Sabretooth turned to look. He lowered his brow and smiled, exposing his fangs.

"No you don't, my pretty."

With a violent resolve, he smacked Wolverine across the face. Wolverine soared into one of the dark green dumpsters, denting the metal with his head. With a final groan, he slipped into unconsciousness.

****

Gambit led Mia to a run-down alleyway paved with beer bottles and tattered newspaper. Not a single car drove down the nearby street. Old apartment buildings were the only sight of interest and they seemed to stretch endlessly toward the horizon. The two started to run, but Gambit quickly realized he would have to slow his pace drastically to allow Mia to keep up. She looked up at him and he smiled encouragingly, pretending to be trying hard to run as fast as her. A grin spread across the young girl's face and she opened her mouth to speak, but Sabretooth suddenly exploded into the alley howling with bloodlust.

Knowing there was no more time for games, Gambit scooped Mia into his arms and took off sprinting.

"'ang on tight, _chère_!"

Gambit ducked into another alley, easily vaulting over a chain-link fence. Mia yelped. Only seconds behind, the shrill sound of shredding metal signaled Sabretooth's rapid approach.

He was getting too close for Gambit's comfort. The Cajun deftly removed a card from his coat. "Take a card, _mon ami_!" he yelled as he whipped the three of hearts behind him. The card burst into red flames as it impacted the ground in front of Sabretooth, and the mutant coughed and waved his hand to clear the smoke. The X-Man had gained ground. He growled.

The alley ended at a street very similar to the previous one. Or was it the same one? Gambit was already confused. But there was no time to stop. He kept running with Mia gently slung over his shoulder, occasionally mumbling comforting words to keep her from panicking.

"Why is that scary man chasing us?" Mia asked suddenly.

"Doan you worry, petite. 'e's jus' a kitty cat wan's ta go for a run," Gambit replied, hoping his voice conveyed his reassuring smile.

Mia suddenly wrapped her thin arms around Gambit's back in an awkward hug. Gambit grinned and gave her delicate body a squeeze.

Sabretooth growled in frustration. The X-Man was faster than he was. Such a problem required a plan...or brute strength. Sabretooth picked up a garbage can in passing and rolled it towards Gambit. Pieces of food and paper spilled out onto the sidewalk as the can made its way towards him, and Sabretooth grinned at its inevitable progress toward the fleeing duo.

Mia was speaking against Gambit's back, but a sudden clanging of metal behind him prevented him from hearing. He continued running, but just as he raised his foot to take another step, something caught him behind the leg, and he fell, feet pointing to the gray sky. He landed on the ice, hard; the back of his skull slammed onto the frozen concrete. Fortunately, Mia had landed on his chest, padded even more by his coat.

Gambit groaned and winced in pain, eyes closed. The only thing that jolted him out of his shock was a major weight taken off his chest and the scream of "Gambit!"

He shot up, eyes wide and looked around. _Dere!_ Sabretooth was running down the sidewalk. And in one arm, Mia dangled, screaming.

"Mia!" Gambit stood up and attempted to chase after them but the ice had become even slicker, sending the usually graceful Acadian crashing to the ground once more. He smacked the ground in frustration and tried once more. Failed. _No..._"Non!"

Sabretooth, already far ahead, ducked into an alley. Gambit willed himself to stand and ran after them. He came out on the street with the apartment buildings, but no one could be seen except an old boozehound, suckling the last drops of whiskey from a brown paper bag.

With growing anxiety, Gambit turned into another alley and saw the Blackbird. He was back at the warehouse. He noticed Wolverine's face buried deep within a garbage dumpster. He also saw Sabretooth and Mia enter the warehouse and took off after them, disregarding his friend.

Upon entering, Beast was thrown at Gambit's feet, wincing. Blockbuster laughed at the fallen mutant. Sabretooth, with Mia screaming in his arms, stood behind Sinister, smiling.

"Marauders! We're off. Pleasure doing business with you, X-Men," Sinister called. The rest of the Marauders followed Sinister through Blockbuster's hole in the wall.

"Gaaaambit!..."

Remy ran after them and emerged back into the cold whiteness. But there was nothing there. Nothing.

He fell to his knees, mouth agape, stunned.

Beast, the only member of the team still mobile, walked to him, a sullen expression on his face. He placed a clawed hand on Gambit's shoulder.

"Come, Gambit. We will find her. Right now, we must help the others, though," he said.

Gambit didn't move. Beast patted his shoulder again. "Gambit?" Beast frowned and then picked up the young Cajun in his arms. Even if not for his mutant strength, there would have had no trouble lifting him, Beast mused. The boy was practically a skeleton. Hank carried him back to the Blackbird and placed him on a seat. Gambit stared forward, not even acknowledging the kind intentions of his comrade. Beast returned to the warehouse and one by one, picked up the fallen mutants and carried them back to the plane. Finally, he picked up Wolverine, prying his head from the dumpster, with a metallic screech.

Beast closed the ramp and started the Blackbird's engines, snow melting beneath the dark ship.

"'A man is not finished when he's defeated. He's finished when he quits.' Richard Nixon," he quoted to no one in particular. Jean, and Iceman were the only X-Men still coherent, but they were all sitting quietly in their seats, too tired and disheartened to even check on their injured teammates. Gambit sat where Beast had left him, not seeming to notice anyone at all. Scott was in the worst shape. Beast could determine that with just a look. But he would run diagnostics and tests when they arrived back at the mansion.

No one talked on the ride back home. The hum of the craft was the only sound.

Beaten again.


	7. Revalations

Title: Long Way Down (7/8)  
Authors: B/C & M/G  
Rating: PG-13 - Logan needs his mouth washed out.  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them. I only sit up until all hours of the night playing with them like this because I just _have _to procrastinate and give myself midnight deadlines. Not like I need sleep or a break or anything like that, no. It's more important to make sure that some sort of plot advancement occurs and we get nearer to that whole slash concept between Logan and Remy. Obviously these fictional characters are more important than the physical and mental health of the author. What was I thinking? Oh, and once again, I don't own them.

Beast put on his glasses, viewing a screen with the results from Cyclops' tests. The doctor shook his head gravely, and with a few keystrokes, a graph appeared on the screen. Beast sighed and removed his glasses once again to massage the bridge of his nose. Cyclops wasn't going to get up for a while.

Beast walked over to Scott's hospital bed. The younger mutant's eyes were closed behind his protective visor and his breathing was painfully loud and rasping. His hair was drenched in sweat and he shook violently from time to time, whether from cold or fever dreams Beast could not tell. He held up a syringe and filled it with a liquid from a bottle nearby, then tapped out the air bubbles with his clawed index finger, careful not to crack the plastic.

He inserted the needle into the brachial artery and pushed the plastic plunger down. Scott shuddered slightly and then opened his eyes slowly, groaning. Through his glasses all he could see was a blurry, blue mass hovering over him.

"Beast?"

"Yes, I'm here Cyclops. Just trying to get you back in top form," Beast replied, removing the needle from Scott's arm and placing a sterilized pad on the small bubble of blood.

"Would you hold this in place for a moment?" Beast asked.

Scott obeyed.

"Wha...? Where are...?"

"We're back at the Xavier Institute, Scott. You're in the infirmary. Do you recall what happened?"

"Plague...she...she..."

"Yes. I know," Beast said sympathetically.

"Did we...get the kid?" Cyclops asked.

Beast hesitated. "No, we did not. Sinister and his aggregation of fiends apprehended her. A most unfortunate turn of events."

Cyclops tried to swallow and turned his head away.

Wolverine, lying on a bed nearby, opened his eyes. Still in his field uniform he rolled off of the cot and walked groggily over to Beast and Cyclops.

"Hey, doc. How is everyone? Oh, geez. You look like hell, Cyke." Logan inspected him closer. "You might be sick, too."

Cyclops looked at the wall, frowning.

"Wolverine!" Beast exclaimed sternly. "You're...you should still be lying down! You suffered a serious injury!"

"With my powers?" Wolverine shot back. "I'm fine, doc."

"Logan...your head was embedded in a dumpster..." Beast replied patiently.

"I said I'm fine."

"Well...all right."

"Hey! Did we get the lil' girl?" Wolverine asked hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Oh..." Wolverine looked at the floor.

"Logan, Scott needs a bandage on his arm. Would you get it?" Beast asked.

He shook his head. "You bet. Whatcha want, Cyke? Hearts or puppy dogs?" Logan walked over to a box and took out a package of plain bandages. He took one from the container and placed it over the gauze pad with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Better?"

Cyclops remained silent, frowning at the far wall.

Beast saw Cyclops' discontentment and tried to separate him from Logan.

"Uh, Wolverine, would you be so kind as to check on Rogue?" Beast asked.

"Sure." Wolverine walked to the other side of the lab.

Rogue was lying on another bed unconscious. Her left arm was hooked up to an IV, perpetually dripping liquid nutrients into her body.

"Still out cold, huh?" Wolverine asked.

"Yes. Just as bad as when she arrived," Beast's voice echoed faintly across the sterile, blue lab.

Light footsteps approached behind Wolverine. He turned to see none other then Storm walking toward him carrying a tray of cups and medical utensils.

"Storm!" Logan exclaimed gruffly. He wrinkled his nose and gave it a cross-eyed glare before speaking again. "How are ya? Feelin' better?"

_Doesn't smell like Storm...must be cuz she's sick._

"Why, yes, Logan," Storm replied in her strong, accented voice. "It is good to see you. Doctor, where would you like these?"

"On the counter is fine," Beast told her.

Storm set them on a nearby countertop.

"The doc has you workin' for him? Ya sure you're up to that?" Wolverine asked.

"Oh, yes. In fact, I volunteered. I have nothing better to do at the moment. I _am_ still recovering and Beast wants me to stay in the infirmary for at least three more days to monitor me," she replied.

Wolverine nodded and looked around the room. Three incapacitated X-Men – probably four: Storm wasn't ready to take to the field yet.

He walked over to Iceman who, in contrast to his teammates, was awake and alert and already indulging in a favored pastime: complaining.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Wolverine asked.

"Not so hot. My leg hurts and I'm bored out of my mind," Bobby replied.

Logan lifted the blue blanket and removed the bandage on Bobby's left leg revealing a five inch long gash exposing red flesh. Wolverine lifted his eyebrows and looked away, replacing the bandage. "'m sure you'll manage. Well, get better, kid."

"Thanks."

Logan turned away from the bed-ridden mutant and looked at the nearby wall. Hooks with medical supplies draping off of them jutted out of the blue metal. Wolverine casually plucked a reflex hammer from its place and experimentally prodded the rubber tip, testing it on random places on his limbs. Becoming quickly bored, he gingerly smacked the metal counter, the light tap erupting into a clatter that almost shook the entire infirmary.

Beast cringed at the obscenely loud noise and shot Logan a look.

"Uh, Wolverine, would you help me for a moment?"

"Sure, Doc." Wolverine placed the hammer on the counter and walked over to the hairy mutant.

"I need to change Rogue's IV pack." Beast, reaching in to a drawer, brought out a plastic sack and he walked over to Rogue's unconscious body. He plucked the line out of Rogue's arm. "I just need you to hold this for a moment," he told Wolverine, handing him the tube.

Beast carefully disconnected the line from the pack that was supported by a metal rack.

Wolverine looked around the room and sniffed.

Beast set the used IV pack on the corner of Rogue's bed and reached for the new one.

Wolverine began to rock impatiently on his heels.

Beast placed the IV pack into the metal support structure.

"So, uh, Doc...ya look like ya got yer hands full in 'ere," Wolverine said.

"Yes. It's unfortunate that so many of the X-Men were made to suffer. Although, Nightcrawler seems to be doing well. He was aiding me earlier, before you awoke. And Gambit, also.

Wolverine's eyes popped open.

_The Cajun!_

Beast connected the tube to the pack and grabbed it from Logan, sticking the needle back into Rogue's arm.

"There we are."

"Uh, all right, Doc. I gotta take off. I'll see ya around. Good t'see ya again, Storm." Wolverine hurriedly headed for the infirmary door.

"So long, and take care." Beast watched as the mutant who was lying unconscious not ten minutes earlier stormed out of the room. "'One must not forget that recovery is brought about not by the physician, but by the sick man himself.' Georg Groddeck. That most definitely is the case with Wolverine, is it not?" he asked Storm.

Storm smiled.

A crackling on one of the monitors drew Beast's attention.

"Hank?" Xavier called over the monitor.

"Yes, I'm here Professor."

"How are things down there?"

"Well..." Beast scanned his mental list of patients. "Cyclops has awoken. But he is still ill and will not be able to work for a while. I would say four or five days. Iceman's leg will not permit him to walk for weeks. I will stitch it when I am finished here. Storm is up and about now. I know you talked with her earlier. I do not foresee any complications with her recovery."

Storm walked into view. "Hello, Professor."

"Hello, Ororo."

"And Rogue is still unconscious, although I am unaware as to why..." Beast prompted.

"I can enlighten you on that subject," Xavier responded. "During the battle, Rogue touched Sinister."

"With her bare skin!" Beast asked, barely managing to school his voice to a proper volume.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. She thought it would weaken him and she would be able to gain his powers. But Sinister is not a mutant. His power was too much for her and she blacked out."

"Astonishing." Beast scratched his hairy chin, looking at Rogue. "Well, I shall take the utmost care with her, Professor."

"I know, Hank. You do a fine job. I will be calling a meeting in the war room within the hour so be prepared to arrive. Good luck, my friend."

"Thank you, Professor."

The monitor switched off. Beast walked over to a sink and filled a glass with water, handing it to Scott. Cyclops gulped the liquid down greedily. His head hit the pillow again and he slept. Beast pulled the blanket around his neck.

Wolverine rounded the corner and stomped up the staircase, roughly running a hand through his matted hair. The bandage on his head was beginning to come undone, and he impatiently tore it off, stuffing the crumpled wad into the pocket of his flannel pants. Physically, he felt fine already; he would never understand why Beast insisted upon keeping him in the infirmary when his mutant powers could take care of an injury just as easily.

His only worry was Gambit.

The Cajun had been hit hard when the team lost the last child, and this time it was even more personal. Wolverine couldn't fail to notice the immediate connection between Gambit and Mia – an instant bond of trust – that must have made the loss even harder to bear.

Resolved to do whatever he could to ease Gambit's mind, Logan reached the landing and approached the familiar wooden door. He paused, taking a deep breath, then raised his hand and knocked.

"Gumbo...it's me."

There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time. The sound echoed down the empty hallway. With the other X-Men either recuperating from injuries or working through the battle's aftermath with the Professor, the whole mansion felt empty. Shifting his feet uncomfortably, Logan turned his attention back to the door in front of him.

"Gambit, open up."

_He's in there...I smell 'im._

Wolverine turned the handle and found that it was unlocked. With one last glance around the desolate hallway, he opened the door and stepped into the tiny room. Instantly, a cold breeze enveloped him, stinging his unprepared eyes. Blinking back tears, he saw that the balcony doors were open and the white curtains danced in the wind. He went forward to close the offending ports but stopped when he glimpsed Gambit on the platform behind the fluttering fabric.

"Gambit. Hey..." he began cautiously.

_If he jumps off again..._

Wolverine pushed the flapping curtains out of his way and stood in the doorway, squinting at the bright, snowy landscape that greeted him. Gambit did not acknowledge his presence, but remained staring out at the white, rolling hills and evenly spaced evergreens with hands behind his back.

Logan took a tentative step onto the freezing stone with his bare feet. He stifled a shiver, and shifted from one foot to the other, looking for the appropriate words to address his friend.

_What am I s'posed to do? Chat about the weather? Give 'im a hug? _

Hesitantly, he started talking, letting every comforting thought he could come up with spill out at once.

"Gambit, I-I'm sorry about what happened. But...They had the upper hand. We weren't expectin' them. Besides, you were fightin' and runnin' like a madman. You did everything you coulda done and you did it good. You know that, right?" He hoped Gambit wouldn't answer that question. Still, his lack of response was disconcerting.

_Maybe I shouldn't'a said anything at-_

The Cajun slowly turned around, keeping his face to the ground. Almost mechanically, he leaned back against the railing and gripped it tightly. As the wind snatched at loose tendrils of chestnut hair, Wolverine could see that Gambit's eyes were shut tightly.

_That can't be a good sign..._

Wolverine shifted uneasily, still stumbling over the proper way to comfort Gambit.

"Gumbo...we're gonna find her. We ain't gonna let anything happen t'that pretty li'l girl. Besides, she was really brave during it all. I know she can take care of herself. Hell, she was on her own in that cold building for that long...she has better survival skills than me." Wolverine chuckled, hoping for some change of expression in Gambit. The Acadian remained motionless.

_Why the hell ain't he talkin'! There's not much else I can say..._

"Dammit, Cajun. C'mon. We _will_ get 'er back. And when we meet up with that creep, Sabretooth, we can both-"

Gambit suddenly strode forward, closing the short distance between them. He tilted his head slightly and caught Wolverine's parted lips with his own. Logan's eyes widened and his body tensed as his heart skipped a beat. Gambit's warmth and spicy scent enveloped him, and he felt himself relaxing. His eyes started to close, but Gambit abruptly pulled away.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, Wolverine's mouth hanging open, Gambit's shoulders stiff and eyes unblinking. The wind howled and blew the curtains between them, but neither moved. It seemed they stood that way several minutes as Wolverine's thoughts tumbled wildly over one another. Unable to decide whether he was more shocked at Gambit's actions, his own reaction, or at his relative lack of shock altogether, he found himself incapable of turning from his companion's unyielding gaze.

A sharp pop of static awoke the two and Xavier's voice echoed throughout the complex. Wolverine blinked and broke the stare by turning toward the intercom.

"Attention, X-Men. A crucial meeting is being held in the War Room in ten minutes. I repeat, there is an emergency meeting being held in the War Room in ten minutes. Also, students, the school soccer game has been cancelled for tonight and will be rescheduled for next week sometime. That is all."

Hearing the end of Xavier's announcement, Logan sensed an escape. He began to walk toward the door, but the feel of eyes on his back stopped him. He glanced back at Gambit.

"Uh...we'd better get goin' to that meeting, huh? I'll..." Wolverine cleared his throat. "I'll see ya down there."

Wolverine left the room, closing the door behind him.

"_Merde_," Gambit mumbled under his breath.

"I think it is apparent that we have underestimated the determination of our enemy. Regarding the encounter earlier, it seems that Sinister and his associates are proceeding with more haste than previously anticipated. However, we still do not know what he is rushing _for_." Professor Xavier rubbed his chin thoughtfully and observed the five other X-Men sitting around the bare, circular table.

To the Professor's left perched Nightcrawler, tossing his tail from hand to hand anxiously, while at his other hand Beast was studiously scrawling in a notebook, glasses resting gently on the end of his blunt nose. Wolverine was slumped in his chair, arms crossed and gaze focused on the table, while Gambit opposite him reclined stiffly with his eyes on the ceiling. Jean Grey, sitting across from Xavier, had a perfect view of the whole charade, much to her discomfort. She saw every visual exchange that Wolverine and Gambit tossed at each other. The tension was stifling.

They played a tedious game of eye tag while the Professor spoke. Wolverine looked at Gambit from under his brow. As soon as Logan's gaze was redirected, Gambit's eyes switched to the older man. Logan turned back just in time to see Gambit move to regarding and adjusting his gloves. And when they finally caught each other's eyes, they both turned away so quickly Jean was sure she heard the air snap.

Jean tried with all her might to concentrate on Xavier, but the bickering mutants in her peripheral vision made it next to impossible.

_Do they have any idea how childish they're being?_

"But that is not what we're here to discuss," Xavier announced.

Jean forced herself to pay attention.

"Our number one priority right now is getting those children back. However, looking around, it goes without saying that we do not have the manpower to do so at this point in time. There is too much at risk to start a full-blown attack with a depleted team," Xavier said.

"Oh, now, now, Professor..." Beast mused.

"_Ja_, Professor, we can handle it!" Nightcrawler rasped.

Xavier shook his head.

"I don't doubt your capabilities, Kurt. I know each and every one of you would do whatever it takes to get those children back. But let us not forget that we are dealing with innocent lives, children's lives. We should only execute a plan of action when there is no doubt of success. I don't believe that just five is enough. Although, I do believe that some course of action should be taken immediately."

The mutants shifted in their chairs, the toneless creaking interrupting the anticipatory silence of the stark room. Xavier leaned forward.

"I want you five to go on a reconnaissance mission. You must scout the area of Sinister's hideout, but do not engage in any combat. This will require the utmost stealth. We need information," Xavier explained.

The team's exhaustion became more noticeable when they were ordered back out into the field. They sat again in stunned, uneasy silence for a few moments, pondering both the danger and the exigency of such a mission. The only sound in the room was the steady hum of the computers lining the otherwise bare metal walls. Xavier began to stir and Jean took it upon herself to break the silence.

"When would we leave, Professor?" she inquired.

"In just a few hours. Three o'clock this morning," Xavier replied.

Beast looked up from his notebook. "Where is this hideout located?"

Professor Xavier hesitated. "I'm still attempting to pinpoint an exact location. I received a lot of images from earlier and I'm trying to decipher them all. Nevertheless, I _will _discover where the lair resides. I can send the coordinates when you are all aboard the Blackbird."

Gambit licked his lips, his face a mask of desolation. Jean felt a twinge of pain inside as she recalled his instant and genuine affection for the last child. For Mia.

_It must have hit him hard..._

"Our current troop handicap has left us without a leader for the moment. Hank, how would you say Scott is recovering? Would he be able to accompany us tonight?"

"Incontrovertibly not, Professor. He won't be in any shape to fight for several days. Having said that, however, he _is_ recovering."

Xavier grunted. "All right, then. We will need someone to lead this mission. Volunteers?"

The X-Men looked around at one another, seeing their own fatigue mirrored in dim eyes.

Gambit coughed softly and peered into the reflections on the table.

"Ah do it."

Logan slowly swiveled his head to face Gambit.

"Objections?" Xavier quickly glanced at the mutants. "Very well. Gambit will be taking point on this mission."

Gambit remained frozen, eyes glued to the table, as the other X-Men stared at him.

Xavier broke the silence once again. "Are there any questions? No? All right, then. Remember, stay in the shadows and tread softly. There is a lot at stake here. If the five of you are compromised, we may lose our last hope of recovering the children unharmed. I will contact you on the Blackbird. You have your mission, X-Men. Godspeed."

The Professor left the room, the whirring of his chair slowly fading down the corridor. Nightcrawler and Beast stood up, stretched and followed, engaged in conversation. After a moment, Wolverine slowly arose from his chair. He glanced at Jean and caught her eye. She gave him a questioning look, her eyes quickly darting in Gambit's direction. Wolverine glanced at Gambit, lowered his head, and walked to the door.

His footsteps eventually faded and Jean Grey stood up. She walked over to Gambit and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Gambit...what's go-"

"You betta go git some rest, _chère_," he interrupted flatly.

Jean dropped her hand to her side and sighed. Confused and angered, she turned and left the room. The automatic door sealed shut behind her, leaving the Cajun alone at his chair in the desolate War Room.

Wolverine found himself pacing the hallway outside his room, his conscience forbidding him to enter.

_I have to say _something_ to 'im. I shouldna jus' walked away like that._

But the more he considered what he needed to do, the more he wanted to simply slink into his room and pretend nothing had happened. Still, he couldn't just let the Cajun go on thinking he had done something wrong.

_Heck, I've done crazier shit in my life than that. But I'm not crazy enough to lose my only friend over this. He's the only one here worth trustin'._

Wolverine stopped cold when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He wasn't ready yet! His breath quickened as he saw the shadowy figure of Gambit materialize on the landing; he could only hope the Cajun would say something to make this easier for him.

Wolverine waited for a greeting or some sort of acknowledgement from the younger mutant, but none came. Gambit took the two paces to his door and turned the handle. In a frantic effort to keep his chance, Wolverine cleared his throat loudly. Gambit paused and turned to him.

Wolverine started when he saw the misery in Gambit's glowing eyes and the slump of his shoulders. This was hardly the mirthful young man he ate breakfast with every morning over tales of remarkable exploits. He more resembled the broken boy he comforted on that night when Nicholas... that night that seemed so long ago. Wolverine was overcome by the urge to embrace him as he did then, but he held back. There was no telling how the Cajun would respond this time.

With a sigh, Wolverine tried to lure Gambit into any sort of conversation. Anything to smooth the way for what he needed to say.

"So, yer gonna be the one callin' the shots tomorrow?"

Gambit raised his chin and fixed his slow, sad eyes on the older mutant.

_Goddammit._

Wolverine furiously tried to swallow his frustration and figure out what was going through the Cajun's head. That kiss...he didn't even know if the Acadian playboy had meant it or not.

_Did I want him to mean it?_

_I liked it._

_What does he want to hear? _

_I don't want to lose him._

_That I need him?_

_He's all I got._

He made a decision. He'd tell the truth, no matter how embarrassing or weak it may be. Finally resolute, he found his mouth had difficulty forming the words.

"Gambit, I..."

Loud voices and laughter interrupted his confession, and it took Wolverine a moment to realize Nightcrawler and Beast were mounting the stairs. He turned his eyes back to the Cajun and felt all his courage leave him. It was hard enough to say without an audience, but he had to say something to the young mutant looking at him as though he would fall to pieces any moment.

"Good luck tomorrow, kid."

Gambit seemed to deflate as he turned into his room, and Wolverine didn't fail to notice the disappointment in his eyes. He gave a vicious glare to the blue intruders and stalked into his room, slamming the door.

"Shit."

Wolverine sat up in his bed, still wearing the pants from his field uniform.

He stared out his window at the snowy landscape, glowing eerily blue beneath the pale moon. His alarm had gone off five minutes earlier, stirring him from a deep slumber. It was the first time he'd awoken to the buzzing in months. Normally, Cyclops knocked on the doors at some ungodly hour to ready the mutants for training. But Cyclops didn't come around today. Today was different. Today was the day to put that training to use.

Wolverine scratched his hair, still messy from the restless night. Throughout the night, he'd found himself constantly waking to the scene in the hallway and the tension he felt as Gambit's eyes burrowed into him. After mulling over the possibilities of what could have been said, he became angry at himself.

_Why didn't I say anything! _

He shook his head and looked at the alarm clock. 2:46 a.m. It would be time to go soon. He yawned and stretched, standing up. He walked over to the window and stared out at the sprawling lawn, covered with a thin layer of snow.

_Scoutin' mission? _

He scoffed aloud.

_I'm gonna get that kid back. For Gambit. Ever since we lost her, he's been mopin' around everywhere, not smilin'... _

A cloud passed over the moon, hiding the grey light that had filtered into the room.

_It doesn't smell good today._

He looked around his room. The still air reminded him of...

..._death._

A slight breeze from the window rustled his hair a bit and he shuddered. A board creaked in the hallway. He stared at the door, half-expecting some inane order from Cyclops, and already he was searching his mind for a generic comeback. But there was nothing. Once again, the board whined. Wolverine paced to the door, opening it quickly, and peeked out into the hall. It was completely deserted, right and left. He lowered his eyebrows and went back into his room with a grunt. The breeze from the window stopped. The cloud passed and the room returned to its cool, metallic color. He slowly looked around the room again, uneasily.

_Weird..._

He shook off his feelings of discomfort and picked up the rest of his uniform, thrown carelessly near his closet. Slowly he put the costume on, pausing briefly in the middle to yawn and rub his eyes. Finally, he grabbed the wrinkled mask from the floor. Holding the tightly, he left his room and walked down the stairs.

Jean knocked on the wooden door leading to Professor Charles Xavier's study.

"Come in," Xavier said, his voice muffled from the thick mahogany.

Jean twisted the knob and slowly opened the door, wincing at the prolonged whine of the old hinges.

Charles Xavier turned his wheelchair to greet her.

"Oh, Jean. I wasn't expecting you," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, right, Professor. You knew I was coming before I even thought about it," Jean responded, the hint of a smile quivering on her lips.

Xavier gave a soft chuckle. He adored Jean Grey; he considered her a daughter. Ever since he entered Jean's mind and saved her from catatonia all those years ago, he'd felt a paternal bond. Jean was also his first student. After tutoring her, Xavier discovered a love for assisting mutants in controlling and developing their powers. As the years passed, Jean had become more and more powerful. Constantly asking questions and ready to learn, Jean rose to the top in telekinetic ability, second only to the Professor himself. He couldn't have been prouder of her.

"What can I do for you, Jean?" he asked.

"Professor, I saw Gambit in the hangar earlier. He was sitting on top of the Blackbird, just looking out the window. He seemed...have you noticed a change in his behavior?"

Jean considered Xavier a father. He was the only person in the world to help her when she was young; the only person in the world with the ability to help her. She studied extensively one-on-one with Xavier and absorbed every bit of information presented to her; she felt eternally in debt to him for teaching her how to broaden her mutant powers, but the Professor would never ask for payment. Xavier was her idol.

The Professor nodded. "I have, Jean. I'm not completely sure why, but I believe it has something to do with the child that we lost. However...I would guess that there is another conflict within him, as well." Xavier stroked his chin, staring fixedly at his desk. He snapped out of his daze. "Well, with any luck, we'll have the girl in our possession by nightfall. Perhaps even by this afternoon. But..." He trailed off.

Jean lowered her eyebrows. "What is it, Professor?"

"Jean, I..." He wheeled his way to her side. "I need you to be alert once we depart. I need you to be ready to take control at a moment's notice. If anything should go wrong-"

"Professor," Jean cut him off. "We're just going in to scout first. We'll see what we can see and then we'll discuss action."

"Yes." The Professor nodded. "Yes, you're absolutely right. However...I feel..." Xavier stared out of a nearby window.

She had never seen him like this.

_Something's wrong here._

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Professor...what's the matter?" Jean asked tentatively. Xavier had always been calm and confident. She had never seen an open expression of doubt from him.

"I, I sense something... I'm not sure what. Jean, just promise me you'll be alert today. It may be nothing at all, but I feel...uneasy." He shook his head and smiled. "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. It will be fine." He grabbed her hand, stroking it. Xavier glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It read 2:46. "You'll be departing soon. You should get ready. Just keep your guard up. You're the X-Men. You'll be fine. I, on the other hand, must get ready for a meeting in Washington starting at 7:00. It's the preliminary hearing for the Anti-Mutant Marriage Law and I will fight this absurdity with every fiber in my body. Discrimination against evolution and the natural feelings of love is outright absurdity. Anyway, I'll see you all this afternoon. Good luck."

Xavier's small doubts had rubbed off on Jean, casting a gloom on her usual optimism.

_We were the X-Men when we were fighting earlier, too. _

Jean stared down at the man and nodded. "Ok, Professor." She bent over and kissed Xavier on the cheek, unable to shake the cold dread filling her being. She could not sense what Xaiver was referring to, but she would never doubt his perceptions.

With a departing smile, Jean Grey walked toward the door, repeating Xavier's words the whole way.

_It will be fine. It will be fine. It will be fine. It will be fine. It will be fine._

"And after this one cycles through once more, you can leave it be. It's automatic, administering the proper dosage every fifteen, twenty minutes," Beast explained to Storm, pointing to a machine connected to Cyclops' IV.

Storm had heard about the upcoming mission from Beast just minutes before and volunteered to watch over the infirmary for him. Since she was still not in top form, Storm seemed to be the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Cyclops and Rogue, who was still unconscious. As well as Bobby, who was milking his injured leg for all it was worth. Since being confined to the infirmary bed mere hours earlier, the young mutants had scored himself a 22" TV, a DVD player, an enormous stereo system, piles of CDs and Penthouse magazines -all donations from annoyed teammates looking for peace and quiet- in addition to a (grudging) promise from an intermittently lucid Scott to get the keys to the McLaren for an hour as soon as he could drive again. Out of exasperation rather than medical integrity Beast permitted Bobby to keep all the toys at his bedside.

Storm's help would allow Beast to aid in the reconnaissance mission.

The soft, repetitious beeping from Scott's heart monitor kept the two informed of his condition. Beast had explained which fluctuations were normal and which weren't. Storm nodded, constantly acknowledging every minute instruction from the ardent doctor.

"You can run diagnostics by pushing-"

"This one here?" Storm asked, pointing to a glowing green button.

"Yes, that's the one. You seem to be catching on rather quickly." Beast exposed a toothy grin.

"Well, you've been teaching me, Hank. You've shown me many things over time. I have to thank you for that," she said.

Beast was slightly shaken by Storm's fervent gratitude, but he quickly recovered and chuckled softly. "As Julius Cesar once said, 'Experience is the teacher of all things'. You'll get plenty of practice today."

Beast placed a pair of scalpels in a drawer beneath the counter. "In all honesty, we will probably be back before lunch. We are only going in to have a quick look around, if I understood correctly."

Storm looked over at Cyclops, lying on the stretcher. "So, how is he really doing?"

"Hm?" Beast looked over his shoulder at her. "Oh, he's...stable. Of course, he's unconscious, so don't jostle him. Still has an aggravated trachea. You'll hear him coughing from time to time. Nothing you can really do about it. Obviously, he can't drink. That's why he is attached to the intravenous line. Let's see...he's still suffering from a high fever. Last time I checked, the thermometer read 39.5 degrees Celsius..." Beast executed a quick calculation in his head. "About 103 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Should I lay a cool cloth on his head periodically?" Storm asked.

"That would be marvelous," Beast responded. "Oh! That reminds me." Beast walked over to the counter and picked up a clipboard. "Every twenty or so minutes, would you be good enough to continue this log of Cyclops' body temperature? All you have to do is write down the time and look at the thermometer." He picked up a pencil from the counter and glanced up at a wall clock. "Right now it's 2:47 a.m. and his temperature is...what did I say? 39.5 degrees Celsius?" He wrote the number down.

"Of course I can," Storm responded coolly.

He walked over to Storm. "Mainly, you just need to keep an eye on him. If something _does_ happen, say he goes into cardiac arrest or respiration ceases, then the paddles are behind the bed, as you know. We've been over it. I'm sure nothing will happen, though. He's been lying there like a stone for the past few hours. But, I trust you in case of an emergency, Storm." He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'd never let you down, Hank."

Beast smiled. "All right, then." He looked around the lab once more. "I believe that's everything. Do you have any questions?"

"No. I don't believe so," Storm responded.

"Fantastic. Well, then, we'll be taking off in a few minutes. The house is all yours," Beast stated.

Storm smiled. "Wonderful. Good luck, this morning."

"Thank you, Storm. Goodbye," Beast said as he walked toward the door.

"Bye." Storm grinned as she waved.

At 2:54 a.m., the X-Men entered the Blackbird. One by one, they filed in and found a seat. Beast and Jean Grey sat in the cockpit, punching buttons. Gambit was the last mutant to enter. He looked around the interior quickly, noticing Nightcrawler sitting in a chair and Wolverine standing in the back of the jet, arms crossed, looking out of a small window. Gambit sat down opposite Nightcrawler, reached into his pocket and brought out a single card, which he continually threw back and forth in his gloved hands.

At the front of the jet, Jean asked "Do you remember how to fly this thing, Doctor?"

"It's been quite some time, but I believe I can manage. That is, once I discover how to turn it on..." With a swift hand, Beast punched several glowing buttons. The engine roared to life, powerful yet quiet. "Ah. That would be it."

She chuckled and rose from her chair. Jean walked down the aisle and sat next to Kurt, fastening her belt. Nightcrawler edged forward, looking past Jean, studying Gambit's aloof attitude. He casually peered behind him at Logan, still staring out the window at the cold, metal walls of the hangar.

"Is everything _gut_ here?" he whispered to Jean.

"I'm not sure. They've been moping around lately. Let's just let it be for now," she quietly replied.

"Okay." Nightcrawler nodded.

At the front of the plane, Beast was frantically pushing buttons and flipping switches. Abruptly, he stopped, leaning back in his chair, the springs giving a soft creak.

"All right. I'm just waiting for the Professor to send us the exact coordinates and then we'll take off. It shouldn't be too long," Beast announced.

The sixty seconds it took for the coordinates to arrive seemed like hours. The tension between the mutants could have been cut with a knife. Jean uneasily shifted her weight in her seat, praying for the directions to arrive soon.

A beep emanated from the front of the jet.

Xavier's voice erupted from a speaker towards the back of the Blackbird.

"I apologize for the delay, but I had to be certain of this location. But this is it. Now remember, this is a reconnaissance mission. No fighting unless it is absolutely necessary. Scout the area, look for entrances into the facility and, if possible, discover the location of the children. Good luck, X-Men."

Beast looked at a small screen on the control panel.

"Here we are. We are heading to Arethusa Falls, near Livermore, New Hampshire. The facility is located about an eighth of a mile from the waterfall. Is everyone ready?"

Nightcrawler was the only one who replied verbally. Jean nodded.

"Okay, then. Here we go!"

Through the front windows of the Blackbird, the hangar doors parted, sending a loud roar echoing throughout the room. With a soft hum, the jet lifted from the ground, sailing slowly to the exposed, cloudless night sky. Once clear of the doors, the jet maneuvered itself to face east and then it sped through the atmosphere, silver moonlight reflecting off of the metal.

"ETA twelve minutes," Beast shouted to the crew.

Again, silence ensued.

Gambit continued to fiddle with his card, while Wolverine tinkered with his claws.

Jean Grey couldn't stand the awkwardness any longer.

"Hey, Gambit, when we get back, why don't we all play a game of Bour...Ber..."

"Bourée, chère," Gambit responded, turning toward her. He put his card back in his pocket. Jean hoped Gambit was starting to warm up. But instead, he simply crossed his legs and stared at the back of the chair in front of him.

Wolverine glanced at Gambit midway into the flight, trying to appear casual. Gambit wiped his right eye, leaving a faint trail of shimmering liquid on his cheek, and Logan's heart skipped a beat, but he turned and looked back out the window before Gambit could catch him staring.

The Blackbird jolted slightly, forcing Wolverine to reach out for the wall to keep his balance.

"Sorry," Beast called. "Jean, could you hit the stabilizer, please?"

Jean rose from her seat and returned to the control panel, scanning the numerous buttons and coming up empty.

"Um...I'm sorry, which is the...? I don't do the flying around here. It's all new to me," Jean replied, smiling.

Beast chuckled. "I believe it is a red...yes, it's the one by your right hand. Just push it, if you would be so kind. Thank you."

She did and the tilted jet corrected itself.

"We're almost at our destination. You can see it now if you look out the right of the Blackbird," Beast said.

Nightcrawler unfastened his seatbelt and walked to the cockpit, standing behind Beast and Jean. Wolverine peered out of the small window next to him and saw the roaring waterfall.

"So, that's Arethusa Falls? _Wunderschön_." Nightcrawler hissed.

"That's it. The largest waterfall in the state. Approximately 200 feet of falling water. And what is our altitude?" He eyed the altimeter. "Its peak is approximately two miles from the ground. Amazing."

The others stared, fixated by the falling water. The water, still not frozen from the cooling temperature, pooled at the bottom, expelling mist into the air.

"But our objective should be visible, as well. Everyone search toward the north," Beast instructed.

The snow, lit by the pale moon, acquired a silverish-blue hue, almost masking the old, grey facility, set up in a clearing, about 650 feet north of the Falls. Icicles hung from the roof of the old, metal building. A single, naked light bulb was turned on near the metal door. There was no visible action on the premises.

"That would be it," Beast said.

"That?" asked Jean. "Isn't it kind of small?"

"The facility actually extends several floors beneath the surface according to the Professor," Beast informed them. "It used to house copper, lead and zinc, but it was abandoned fifteen years ago, when the minerals started to become scarce in the vicinity."

He pointed to an open area between the facility and the waterfall. "That looks like an ideal spot to touch down."

As the Blackbird slowly and silently descended, Gambit stood up and brushed himself off, squaring his shoulders with determination. He was ready to get little Mia back. It was all he needed to think about. He clenched his fists.

"And remember everyone," Beast said, "as Charles Lamb once said, 'The greatest pleasure I know, is to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident'."

The Blackbird quietly landed, sending up a plume of powdery snow and the engine died.

The ramp descended, burying itself in the three inches of snow, and the X-Men cautiously exited the craft. Gambit was the first out, squinting his eyes as snow flakes blew past in the wind. Without preamble he sprinted the short distance to the chain-link fence surrounding the ominous compound the Professor had defined as Sinister's stronghold. It was nestled in the bottom of a shallow canyon, a tiny plateau surrounded on three sides by steep slopes, and on the fourth by a drop-off to the river some hundred feet below.The building itself resembled a decrepit schoolhouse: windows ringed the sides, though few had glass and most were boarded, and the red bricks were decaying so badly a portion of the rear of the facility had collapsed. Though, rather than frolicking children, large metal crates of indeterminable usage littered the grounds, and the front door was a thick and menacing steel affair.

Gambit waved for the others to join him.

Beast stepped into the snow, shivering.

"Oh, this was most unwise. I don't even have footwear, let alone pants."

In a cloud of acrid smoke, Nightcrawler appeared next to them, crouching to avoid the biting wind.

Wolverine scanned the perimeterwarily, his nose twitching. The full moon gave offa soft glow, bathing the landscape in white light, and errant snowflakes brushed Logan's skin and melted on his cheek. He sniffed again and with a grunt, he covered the short distance and regrouped with the others.

He looked over at Gambit and noticed the lack of expression on his face. His usual flaming red eyes were lifeless and his mouth was down-turned.

"We gotta jump da' fence," Gambit declared in a whisper.

"Cajun, don'tcha think yer takin' this too fast? Ya haven't even checked the area," Wolverine hissed.

"Der ain't nothin' dere. I's fine. Lez go."

Gambit gracefully hopped over the fence, brown coat flapping behind him. He landed in the snow withouta sound and sprinted to a nearby pile of crates.

One by one, the mutants jumped the fence, and took cover behind the boxes.

"_Bon_. Okay, c'mon."

Gambit turned toward the building, but Wolverinegrabbed his coat sleeve and held his wrist tightly.

"Cajun, stop! We can't keep chargin' up like this. This is an important mission. Ya ain't thinkin' clearly." Wolverine lowered his voice. "If it's about earlier..."

"I's fine, Logan! Dere ain't nothin' out 'ere!" He shook Wolverine's arm away. "Okay, c'mon e'ybody." He took off running toward the small building. Jean, Beast, and Nightcrawler followed closely behind, however Wolverine stayed behind the crates.

_Why's he want to get there so fast? Cajun knows better than t'charge blindly. Hell, he's a thief._

Nightcrawler turned back.

"Psst, Wolverine."

Wolverine nodded and ran to join him. Theycaught up withthe other X-Men on the side of the building, flattening themselves against the red bricks.

Gambit rounded the corner and saw the entrance, large enough for even the burliest custodian to walk through, mop held aloft.

"Wolverine," he whispered, waving his hand.

Logan approached the door and rested his hand on the heavy metal handle.

Gambit reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an Ace of Hearts.

"_Trois_."

Nightcrawler teleported onto the roof.

"_Deux_._"_

Wolverine tightened his grip.

"_U_-"

The metal door burst outward, hinges flying through the air, sending Wolverine propelling backward. He crashed into the snow, sliding into the cold metal of a crate.

Sabretooth emerged from the doorway, grinningferociously.

"Mornin', everyone. Took you long enough to get here."

E_xpectin' us?_

Wolverine jumped up from the snow, unsheathing his claws.

"Oh, ready for another go, old man?" Sabretooth cracked his knuckles. "I've been waitin' all night for this." The savage mutant roared and charged.

Logan jumped out of the rampagingmutant's path and watched with grim amusement as Sabretooth skidded to a stop and turned around for a second run. Beast intercepted his path from the left, slamming into the behemoth with a grunt, and the furry pair hurtled to the ground. Beast landed on top, but Sabretooth kicked him into the air before he could catch his breath. Luckily, the blue mutant landed gracefully on his feet.

Nightcrawler closed his eyes, concentrating, and vanished from the roof, appearing on Sabretooth's left shoulder. Knowing the immense difference in strengthKurt resorted tograbbing the mutant's mane and tugging. Sabretooth shrieked and batted his arms wildly, trying to hit the X-Man. Jean Grey ran at the preoccupied villain and kicked him in the gutsending him to the ground. Beast climbed on top of a stack of steel crates and gracefully leapt to join Kurt on top of Sabretooth.

Gambit pulled a card out of his coat. "Henri, Ni'crawla', 'eads up!"

The glowing card cut through the air. Beast and Nightcrawler jumped off of the mutant as the card made contact. A red explosion engulfed Sabretooth, who fell over backwards, coughing in the smoke.

Jean closed her eyes and, with careful concentration, lifted one of the metal crates into the air. The shadow hovered over Sabretooth. He opened his eyes and gasped.

"Nooooo!"

Jean dropped the crate and it slammed into the ground, powdery snow exploding around it.

The X-Men stood in shaken silence, panting and wary. They relaxed slightly when further enemies failed to appear. The mood was shattered, however, by the sound of ironic clapping.

Standing in the vacant doorway, under the harsh glow of the naked bulb, was Sinister.

"Well done. Well done," he hissed through his toothy grin.

Wolverine held his breath.

_Can't get much better than this..._

The X-Men clustered together.

"Very impressive," Sinister rasped. He took a massive step forward, his boot crunching in the snow.

"Guys..." Jean hissed under her breath.

Wolverine nodded. "On three," he replied.

Sinister approached even closer.

"Three!"

The X-Men spun around, scrambled up the gentle slope, and jumped over the fence. They landed on the opposite side almost in unisonand began racing toward the idle Blackbird. Behind them Sinister began to laugh.

"Run, little X-Men! Run!" he chortled.

The frantic, crunching footsteps echoed through the canyon as the X-Men drew closer to the jet, their breath expelling in wispy plumes.

_Almost there..._

Suddenly, the massive, meaty thigh of Blockbuster slammed down in front of them, blanketing the mutants in a layer of freezing snow. The X-Men skidded to a stop. Blockbuster shook his head from side to side.

Sinister's maniacal howling ceased and he once again began his approach. At the fence, he lifted a handle and pushed open a section of fencing.

"Oh, come now. Even we mutants are civilized enough to use doors." Sinister closed and locked it behind himcontinuing his menacing march toward the disoriented mutants, his twisted smile growing larger with every step.

Sinister finally arrived and stood next to Blockbuster, whose rasping breath seemed to shake the ground.

As a group, the X-Men began to slowly back away from the two Marauders, edging closer to the roar of Arethusa Falls. Nightcrawler's heel teetered over the edge and after fighting for balance, he toppled over, falling down the rocky chasm. Instantly, in a puff of smoke, he teleported back to the cliff with the rest of the group.

"_Halt_!" he yelled.

The X-Men stopped their backward approach at the edge. The overpowering scream of the waterfall was almost deafening, as hundreds of gallons of water crashed down the two hundred foot dropevery second.

Sinister stopped in front of them, peering at each one, studying their faces. Lastly, his eyes rested upon Gambit.

"Well, Gambit," Sinister began. "It took you long enough to arrive, but I suppose I should thank you for at least getting the job done."

Gambit's eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

Wolverine glanced at him guardedly.

_What...?_

"Now that I have the X-Men, there will be no opposition. Freedom to kidnap whomever I wish. But I couldn't have done it without your help, Gambit. The information you provided was essential. I find myself in your debt. Again"

_The Cajun! The spy..._

Jean turned to Gambit. She tried to see his face, but the high collar of his jacket hid him from view.

"Gambit?"

The Cajun didn't move.

_How could he do this?_

"Why, yes. 'Gambit'. Honestly, I'm baffled that not one of you came to that conclusion after what happened earlier..." Sinister said, grinning.

_That little Cajun rat..._

"_Wie_? What do you mean?" Nightcrawler hissed.

_He was playin' us all along... _

Sinister chuckled. "Not very perceptive, are we? Perhaps you were too preoccupied with my Marauders to notice your friend candidly giving the girl to Sabretooth."

Blockbuster smiled.

Gambit stared at Sinister, but made no move to contradict him.

Sinister began talking again, but Wolverine was too caught up in his thoughts to hear any of it.

..._He was playin' me!_

Unsheathing his claws, Wolverine screamed as loudly as he could, louder than the rushing water.

Sinister abruptly stopped talking and watched as Logan darted past him.

Gambit simply stared at the raging mutant, eyes focused on the moonlight reflecting off of the Adamantium claws.

Jean and Beast yelled at Wolverine to stop, but he was too deafened with angerto hear.

Gambit attempted too lateto jump out of the way as Wolverine's clawed hand swung past him. The Cajun gasped and his eyes widened. He brought his hand down to his chest where a single, bloody gash was cut into his chest.

Gambit's breath rushed out of his lungs and his feet slid in the slippery snow as he stumbled. Suddenly, he began to sway, swinging his arms for balance. The heels of his boots were held freely above the 200-foot drop of Arethusa Falls.

As Gambit fell backward, he reached out, grabbing for Wolverine, but his hands were too far away. The Cajun made no sound as he fell and disappeared into the white foam at the bottom of the waterfall.

Wolverine's rigid face slowly relaxed as the mutant vanished from sight. He stood, looking down the cliff face for a moment, breathing hard.

The hint of a smirk formed at the corners of Sinister's lips.

Jean Grey stood motionless, stupefied by the events. Wolverine turned to look at her, and she caught his gaze. He quickly looked away, attempting to hide the tears forming in his eyes as his legs collapsed beneath him.

Jean turned around and was reminded that Sinister was still standing behind them. She looked past him and saw the Blackbird, an easy escape. She placed her right hand on her temple.

Wolverine onlyvaguely heard Jean Grey's mentally projected words in his head.

_Everyone, we need to make a break for the Blackbird, now! Beast, you're going to have to grab Logan._

Wolverine immediately felt the warm hands of Beast scoop him up, but he suddenly felt too exhausted to protest. The mutants quickly ran past Sinister and Blockbuster.

Wolverine watched as the distance to the cliff rapidly grew. The sound of the gurgling falls grew quieter.

Blockbuster grunted and spun toward the fleeing mutants, but Sinister slammed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let them go."

After the X-Men entered, the ramp descended and the engines roared to life. The clearing was lit with bright, white light as the jet rose and took off.

Sinister brushed snowflakes off of his sleeves.

"And then there were four."

He spun around and walked back to the facility, his boots crunching in the snow. Blockbuster followed closely behind.

The two figures disappeared into the early morning haze.

Gambit splashed into the white foam at the bottom of the screaming waterfall. His body was plunged underneath the surf and he gasped as the freezing water engulfed him. He opened his eyes, seeing only blackness. Eventually, Gambit hit the bottom and his right calf was cut on a jagged rock. The weight of his clothing pulled him down even further, but he struggled to resurface. Using his arms and his legs for all they were worth, he paddled upwards.

The Cajun gasped for breath as his head emerged from the frigid water. He strained himself to keep his balance as the swirling rapids pushed him downstream, away from the mouth of Arethusa Falls. He was pushed around a rocky corner and down a slight decline.

_Mon Dieu..._

The approaching section of the river was filled with enormous, jagged boulders, resting peacefully in the substrate, and Gambit was hurtling toward them. He managed to dodge the first two rocks, paddling to the left as they neared. However, the next stone caught his right arm, tearing through the brown fabric and skin. Gambit winced in pain, but willed himself to employ the injured limb to avoid the next two rocks.

He rounded another bend and gasped in horror at what he saw. A grey boulder rose six feet out of the water and took up half the length of the river. The water crashed around its edges with a deafening roar. The Cajun strove to swim away from encrusted slab of earth, but the current drew him directly towards it.

Gambit slammed into the giant rock, and the world turned to black.

He woke up coughing, streams of water pouring out of his lungs. He choked on the water, sat up, and vomited. Gambit wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked around. The river had turned into a small stream. Two-inches of clear water gently babbled over the red and brown stones that made up the streambed where Gambit sat. The crashing of the mighty Arethusa Falls could only faintly be heard in the distance now, accompanied by the quiet howl of the wind. Gambit's chin began to tremble as his teeth clicked together.

_I got t'get outta dis wata'..._

The mutant slowly stood up, yelping in pain as his weight rested on his injured right leg. He fell back down and looked at his calf. Parting the ripped fabric, he saw a piece of rock embedded in his flesh. He closed his eyes and grabbed the stone. With teeth clinched, he yanked the shard out of his leg, stifling a whimper though there was no one to hear him. Gambit brought the rock to his face and saw that his blood blanketed less than half an inch of it.

_It not so bad..._

He dipped his hand into the frigid water and dripped some onto the wound.

Again, Gambit willed himself to his feet, wobbling. After gaining his footing and ignoring the throbbing pain in his legs, he walked to the grassy bank. The seven steps it took to reach the grass wore him out entirely. He sat back down, panting. He held his head back and looked up at the twinkling stars situated in the night sky.

_Logan pushed me over...His face, it was so...hurt..._Ah_ hurt 'im. Me. All 'cause of tha' damn kiss! He was mopin' around ever since den_..._I's _all_ my fault! An' Ah din't get 'da girl. Sinister was right...Ah couln't save 'er..._my_ fault..._

Gambit hung his head and began to weep quietly, his shoulders bobbing with each whimper. The Cajun felt the tears on his cheek cool rapidly in the frigid air and he wiped them away.

_Okay._ _Ah gotta get back to da mansion. Ah'm gon' get my t'ings. An' leave fo' good._

Once again, Gambit attempted to pull himself off of the ground and stand up. The injury to his leg and his exhaustion caused him to fall back down, and the emotional trauma, seeing Wolverine's scowling face every two seconds, took away his will to keep trying.

_Ah...ah can't do it...Ah too tired..._

Gambit brushed the tops of the blades of grass with his hand.

_Ah don't know 'ow Ah'm ever gon' make it back..._

After they returned to the Xavier mansion, the X-Men searched through it for the Professor, wanting to report what had happened. After a frantic and unnerving exploration, they found the Professor lying on the floor of the War Room in front of his computer. Beast took him to the infirmary and noticed that Storm, who had vowed to stay in the infirmary and watch over the injured mutants, was gone. Beast planned to place the Professor on the counter, due to the lack of empty beds, but was surprised by the presence of a free bed next to Cyclops. Rogue was gone as well.

Eventually, to the relief of the X-Men, the Professor woke up. He explained the events leading up to his loss of consciousness. He had been working at the War Room computer when a shadow fell across the screen. He had turned to look, but had been struck before he could register the face of his assailant.

As the X-Men combed the War Room, searching for any signs leading to the identity of the attacker, Storm entered the room behind them. A pallid and disheveled Storm who fell into a nearby chair as the X-Men rushed over to her, confused and curious.

Storm explained that after their attempt to save the third child, the Marauders had captured her. They had sent their shape-shifting mutant, Mystique, to pose as Storm and the X-Men carried her back to the mansion. Storm was taken back to the Marauders hideout, tied up and drugged until, not an hour ago, Sinister had approached her and simply let her go, claiming she was no longer needed. Storm used every ounce of her remaining strength to soar back to the Institute.

The ruse seemed obvious enough. Mystique had waited patiently in the infirmary, disguised right under the X-Men's noses, until she could awake and freely explore the mansion. The previous mission had cleared the Xavier Institute of any able-bodied X-Men, and Mystique was free to take her prize: the helpless body of her daughter.

Beast walked over to the War Room's computers in order to check the surveillance cameras. When he tried to log in, however, the system shut down. After a quick look at the mainframe, Beast concluded that Mystique had placed a virus in the computer, and had quite possibly accessed the classified data kept there as well. Beast would have to reconfigure the entire system to get it back up and running. He didn't know how long it would take.

Xavier stated that he would use Cerebro in an attempt to learn the location of Rogue and her captor. He entered the empty, sterile room and wheeled down the walkway. The Professor lifted the helmet and gasped in shock as he discovered that the cables connecting the helmet to the machine were severed and the rest of the circuitry was mangled horribly. Xavier instructed Jean to contact Forge to help with the repair of Cerebro.

Wolverine decided to track Mystique's scent, typically neglecting to tell anyone. Logan hopped onto his motorcycle and left the garage, immediately picking up the shape-shifter's trail, as well as the familiar aroma of Rogue along with it.

After a couple hours, it dawned on Beast to tell the Professor of the incidents at Arethusa Falls. Xavier was distraught and suggested a search party be constructed; however, Beast explained how much work was to be done at the mansion. Cerebro needed to be fixed, the computer system needed to be restored, and the patients in the infirmary needed to be cared for. So, Xavier suggested that Nightcrawler take the smaller, two-seater aircraft, The Raven, out and look for him. The German scampered to the hangar and took off.

Forge arrived at the Xavier Mansion and was lead to Cerebro. He whistled in surprise when he glimpsed the intricate workings of the machine and said that he would need some help in attempting a repair. Jean gladly volunteered.

Nightcrawler returned later that morning with no news to report, then relieved Beast in the infirmary so the doctor could return to the disaster that was the Institute's computer.

Wolverine followed Mystique's scent all morning but gave up after losing it five miles west of the mansion. He decided that he needed a drink. However, no bar was open that early in the morning. On his way back to the mansion, he stopped in at a supermarket and picked up a six-pack of beer. Logan walked out into the empty parking lot, sat down on a car-stop in one of the stalls, and drank it all. Then he went back in and bought more.

The X-Men were so preoccupied with the chaotic repairs that they didn't notice they were all starving until late that afternoon. Within an hour five large pizzas showed up at the door.

At one point, Beast called the mutants over to the computer, saying that he believed he was about to fix the problem. A moment later, though, the screen faded to black, and Beast apologized.

Logan walked into the mansion in the early evening and went up to his room. Jean called out to him from the kitchen as she cleaned up the pizza boxes, but he did not acknowledge her.

Evening became night and the X-Men made little progress. Tired and stressed, Forge, Jean, and Nightcrawler decided to turn in. Beast, however, wiped his eyes and said that he would work through the night. They all commended him and wished him luck.

Wolverine rubbed his temples as he recollected the events of the past 16 hours.

He sat on his bed in the darkness, head hanging limply between his knees. As a wave of dizziness overcame him, he fell backward onto his pillow. He wasn't sure if it was Gambit or the beer, but his head had been pounding for an hour and he was very tired. Wolverine stared up at the blackened ceiling and sighed.

A knock at the door sent a stabbing pain through his skull.

"Logan? It's Jean. Can I come in?" a suppressed voice called from behind the door.

Wolverine sighed. "Yup."

The knob turned and the door opened, spilling yellow light from the hall into the room. Logan closed his eyes and grimaced.

Jean walked over to Wolverine's bed and sat down on the end.

"Logan? What's wrong? What's going on?" Jean asked.

Wolverine didn't move.

"Logan, first you and Gambit were inseparable. Then you stopped talking to each other. And now you...and now this. Something is going on here. I want to know what it is! What has happened between you two!"

Wolverine sat up and looked her in the eye, trying to get her to back off. She didn't take the hint.

"Logan...you can trust me. Just tell me..."

He did trust Jean on the battlefield, but this was different. Still, it would be nice to talk to someone. His own thoughts weren't sorting themselves out well at all.

Wolverine cleared his throat. "He...One time he..." Wolverine tilted his head to the side and looked at the floor. "Jean...He...c'mon..."

Jean Grey stared at him, silently urging him to continue.

"Hekissedme."

Wolverine's quick, jumbled response was difficult to decipher, but Jean managed it.

"Oh. Oh, I see." Jean complimented herself on her accurate instincts.

"And now, after what Sinister said...It's like he was toyin' with me!"

Jean sat and listened patiently.

"But it felt so _real_ when he did it! And we were gettin' along before that! And that kid! You saw Gambit's face after we lost the kid, right? That seemed real, too! And when Sinister accused 'im! You see his face then?"

"Then, why did you...?"

"Because I...Sinister...Well, what if Sinister's right?"

Tears formed at the corners of Wolverine's eyes, sparkling in the dim light. He dropped his head between his knees, and Jean put her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him.

"Logan? Do _you_ think Sinister's right? Do _you_ think Gambit is a traitor?"

Wolverine looked down at the carpeted floor. The image of Gambit's smiling face while he talked about his childhood over dinner formed in Wolverine's head. The sound of Gambit's muffled giggling, when Logan stubbed his toe and spilled the juice, resonated in Wolverine's ears. The feeling of Gambit's kiss replayed across Wolverine's lips.

Wolverine sat up.

"No..."

A faint grin formed at the corners of Jean's mouth.

"No, I don't."

"Do you think he truly betrayed you?"

"No, I don't!" Wolverine said, voice suddenly rising.

Jean leaned close to his ear.

"Then go," she whispered. "Go and find him. Get him back."

Logan sprung up from the bed and ran to the door. He stopped and turned around.

"Thank you, Jeanny."

Jean Grey smiled and nodded back.

Wolverine disappeared.

Gambit carefully lowered himself to the sidewalk and handed the driver a slightly soggy wad of bills. With a soft groan, he heaved the door shut and began walking the remaining two blocks to the Institute. Watching his surroundings carefully, he cautiously entered the mansion grounds and waited for the opportune moment to slip inside.


	8. Reunion

Title: Long way Down 8/8  
Authors: B/C & M/G  
Rating: PG-13 because someone swears.  
Disclaimers: It's 11:40 pm on New Year's Eve. Even if I did own them, I don't think I'd even know it at this point. I deserve sleep for this.

After what seemed like hours in the cold New England autumn, the last light in the manor went out. Gambit imagined the Professor wheeling out of his study and to his room, accounting time for him to prepare for bed and finally doze off. When he felt certain there would be no one to sense him enter the mansion, he left the cover of the evergreen and jogged gingerly to the side of the building.

The leap over the wall had done nothing for his injuries, and he didn't fancy another acrobatic feat to reach Wolverine's room. Thankfully, a combination of cinderblocks and Wolverine's propped window made entering the second-floor bedroom relatively easy.

Unfortunately, the usual occupant was nowhere to be seen. Gambit had been hoping for a chance to apologize, repent, be shredded to pieces – anything to put the matter of his failure to rest before he left. For good. There wasn't much else left to do.

Gambit gave the room a cursory inspection. He really hadn't expected Logan to be so untidy – an empty bag of beef jerky was blowing in the breeze from the open window, clothes blanketed the floor, and an eviscerated pillow lay at his feet.

Somehow he spotted a permanent marker beneath the clutter and carefully extracted it. Finding something to write on was considerable more difficult so, after several minutes of pushing aside piles of thankfully indistinguishable items, Gambit settled for the mangled pillow he had discovered upon first entering.

After situating his makeshift paper on Wolverine's high dresser and lowering his marker to begin his note, he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say. Or if he should say anything at all. Wolverine had made his feelings for him quite clear when he...

_But 'e looked so sad…_

Really, there was no point in hoping. Gambit touched the marker to the pillowcase and watched dully as the ink bled through the fibers. He was so engrossed in staring into the spreading darkness that he jumped when a soft hand pawed at his forearm.

He turned to face Jean Grey in the uncertain half-light, skillfully forcing a smile across his drawn face.

„You gettin' ta be a good t'ief, chère. Ole Gambit didn' even 'ear ya," he said somewhat uneasily, genuinely unprepared for a confrontation with one of the X-Men he'd failed. Instead of responding or attacking him – both of which seemed equally possible – Jean threw a pointed glance at the pen still clutched in his hand. Somehow his subconscious told him she was waiting for an explanation – one he didn't really didn't have.

"Ah came t'talk to…" Gambit trailed off, suddenly unusually nervous, and waved his arms about the room weakly, gesturing to the various collected artifacts in the room by way of answer. With a shrug of defeat, he concentrated his attention on capping the marker and tossing it soundlessly into the shadows. He was at once very, very tired as he waited for Jean to speak. He knew she wouldn't yell, but her soft, serious voice could still cut like a knife.

He stood in silence, expecting a cut, a stab, but received instead a warm, motherly smile from Jean, comforting even in the weak moonglow. With a sigh that was at once exhaustion and relief, Gambit took a seat on the edge of Wolverine's bed.

"He's not mad," Jean said, lowering herself next to him. "You know that, right?" He didn't respond, but she continued on as though she knew the answer. She probably did. "Nobody's mad at you. Actually, we're sorry. We should have been looking out for you. We let you down." She paused, and Gambit felt compelled to turn to her. The sincerity of her expression caught him by surprise for the second time in ten minutes. "Do you forgive us?"

He suddenly wanted to cry. If he hadn't stood and walked to the window just then, he might have. He leaned on the windowsill and let the cool air soothe him as he spoke into the wind. Miraculously, Jean still heard him whispering.

"You doan mean dat, chère. You saw…Ah jus' let 'im take 'er away." Yet again the redhead caught him unawares with her incongruously cheerful tone.

"The kids will be fine. We're getting closer, even if we haven't won yet. I mean, even you can't take on Sinister and his army by yourself." She smiled somewhat mischievously and rubbed Gambit's arm from behind. Jean had a knack for knowing just what to say to make a person feel better. And for answering unspoken questions.

"He went looking for you," she said earnestly. "He was worried."

"But Ah…you doan know what 'appened, chère…"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Gambit," she said abruptly, and he knew that she knew. "In fact, you just might have done something right."

Gambit stared at her, expression lost somewhere between excitement and desperation, and with an exaggerated sigh she gave a sharp tug on his arm and threw him toward the door.

"Go find him, Gumbo."

With a bright smile Gambit tugged open the door and ran down the hall. Jean was just moving to close the window when a red head popped back into the room.

"T'anks, Jeanne."

She couldn't help but smile. They really were too much.

The roar of the motorcycle's engine tore through the cool early-morning air as Wolverine accelerated down the deserted highway. The rising sun provided little heat, but dappled the pavement on the dangerous cliff-side road with pale shadows from the jagged rocks overhead. Rounding a final curve revealed the ominous Arethusa Falls, and Logan felt his stomach drop. It wasn't his favorite place. Unwilling to slow down, he spotted a path leading into the forest surrounding the Falls that forked off of the highway and took it without a second thought, bouncing over the rocky terrain.

The bike moved slowly through the forest, weaving among the enormous pine trees as Wolverine made his way to the mouth of the waterfall, sniffing the air as he coasted.

_Dirt, flowers, rabbit shit…it's gonna be hard to find a Cajun…_

He found the river and followed it, emerging from the trees into a grassy plain. Arethusa Falls was clearly visible beyond the field, the towering drop no less threatening for the distance, and the sound of thundering water beckoned Logan closer, even over the roar of his motorcycle.

He pulled up beside a boulder that jutted over the mouth of the Falls and stopped his bike. He could feel the gentle mist of the water as he hopped off and walked to the edge. The dagger-like rocks protruding from the water did nothing to lighten his spirits. Looking up revealed the cliff that the group had been standing on not a day before, and he could appreciate the startling length of the drop. Wolverine sighed.

_I can't even smell 'im. But something around here reeks._

He cast his eyes downstream and grimaced. The current was more than strong enough to carry a man Gambit's size. Especially if he were hurt, or unconscious…

A twig snapped behind him, barely audible over the roar of the water, and Logan spun around. There was only the darkness of the forest off in the distance, the dangerously winding river, the dying grass, and a few looming boulders dotting the plain. He shuddered.

_Must be beavers around here...Damn beavers…_

Logan shifted his shoulders and shoved his thumbs into his pants pockets, inhaling deeply through his nose. There was nothing but the stench he was beginning to recognize as rotting fish. The mutant turned back to the river and kicked a rock into the rushing water, the splash lost in the din of the rapids.

"Hmm…"

Wolverine had only a moment to notice a large shadow rise over his own cast on the boulder in front of him. He barely managed to turn around.

Gambit crouched at the top of a hill overlooking the complex, wind blowing his chestnut hair from his face. Seeing no life on the perimeter, he decided to make his move. As he ran towards the chain-link fence surrounding the complex, he spared a glance to the side, peering over the cliff he had fallen from toward the rumbling drone of Arethusa Falls. As ambiance, it was far from soothing.

Using his staff as leverage, he gracefully leapt over the barrier and crouched against the side of the brick building, only recalling his injuries when he jarred against the ground. He took a moment to catch his breath as he visually secured the area.

_Dey all betta' be in 'ere…_

With a grunt, Gambit rose and approached the stark, forbidding building, quietly pulling open the heavy, steel door. Inside, he immediately closed the door behind him and sank to the ground, taking cover in the darkness as he examined his new surroundings. A long, open hall stretched before him with no shortage of crossways and branching paths. The chipping green paint of the walls was visible beneath the sporadic buzzing yellow lights and was occasionally scarred with deep cracks through which Gambit could feel the cold air creeping in. Further down, decrepit lockers lined the path, their rusted doors hanging on immobile hinges.

Gambit cautiously proceeded down the hallway, dodging skillfully past abandoned classrooms full of run-down desks, experience keeping him attuned to the small signs that would signal the approach of an enemy. He passed by the school's office, the glass windows shattered and littering the floor. Yellowing paper and empty mugs covered the surfaces of the derelict desks. Gambit got the sense that the building hadn't been abandoned peacefully. The air with heavy with more than just dust, and Gambit found himself unable to suppress a shudder. The only thing missing were ghosts, and even that wouldn't have been surprising.

Reality flooded back as Gambit spotted a harsh yellow light escaping from beneath a closed metal door at the end of the hall. He approached with caution and pressed his ear to the cold steel, vaguely recognizing the sounds of an indiscernible conversation taking place within. He decided the voices couldn't be near the door, and so carefully placed his hand on the knob and turned it, peering through the slender opening. A naked bulb on the ceiling nearly blinded him, and he closed his eyes for a moment before cracking one open again to check the room. The light illuminated a moulding mop and bucket, as well as several yellow "Caution: Wet Floor" signs.

_A custodian's closet…_

The room was small and uninhabited, so Gambit entered and crossed to a littered stone staircase in the opposite corner. He stood boldly at the top stair, but no one raised an alarm or tried to attack him. Still, he descended the stairs with practiced stealth, taking care not to disturb any of the garbage blanketing the steps.

_Looks like Wolverine's room._

As he crept down the stairs, the voices became clearer and more distinct.

"…said to just watch 'em till he comes back."

"Well, I'm sick of being a goddamn babysitter."

"Just hang in there."

Gambit reached the bottom of the stairway and peered around the corner. Past the fluffy pink insulation poking out of cracked basement walls and pipes were three of the Marauders. Riptide, Sabretooth, and the monstrous Blockbuster stood backs turned to the Cajun, staring at something trapped in what appeared to be a giant aquarium. Blockbuster moved away from the tank and Gambit's eyes went wide. Behind the glass were four cowering children huddled together on the floor. Mia was one of them.

Gambit's heart skipped a beat as she turned her tear-streaked face to the two mutants watching her. With her pales arms desperately wrapped about her bent legs, she looked as small and fragile as she had when they'd first discovered her in the warehouse.

"And what about him?"

Gambit's eyes followed Sabretooth's pointed nod to see a barred metal cage against the far wall. The cage was no more than three feet tall, forcing the prisoner to crouch as he glared at his captors. His wrists were stuck through the bars and bound tightly together with a pair of metal cuffs.

_Logan…_

Wolverine extended his claws in response to their stares, even though he was unable to move his hands. "Just don't get too close," Riptide laughed.

Sabretooth growled. "I don't care what he does with the brats, but the old man is mine to kill."

"You'd better not lay one finger on him, Sabretooth. Blockbuster wouldn't let you, anyway. He has his orders," Riptide hissed. "But don't worry," he continued, a wicked smirk distorting his features, "I'm sure the boss has adequately tortuous plans for him. You'll be satisfied in the end."

Gambit spotted two large wooden crates in front of him and he quickly scrambled behind them, cautiously leaning past the far box to keep an eye on his opponents. Out of the corner of his eye, Gambit saw Wolverine raise his head and he turned to see the older mutant staring at him in disbelief. Gambit nodded acknowledgement and leaned back behind the crates as he fished inside his long jacket. He didn't need to tell Wolverine to be quiet.

His card began to glow bright red and, with all of his strength, the Cajun tossed it at the oblivious group of Marauders. Before they could react to the sudden moment they were enveloped in a staggering explosion of acrid smoke. Gambit reached inside his coat as he ran towards the debilitated group and brought out his metal staff. He reached his reeling victims and smacked the stick over Sabretooth's head with preamble, sending him sprawling on the ground. Riptide, still coughing, jumped backwards, spinning faster than the eye could see. The tornado touched down, still whirling, and shot out three shurikens. Gambit ducked and jumped, dodging the first two. The third was stopped by his staff, embedding itself in the sturdy metal. The force of the impact nearly knocked the Cajun to the floor, but he swiftly regained his footing.

Sabretooth stood, rubbing his temple. It only took him a moment to apprehend the situation and he screamed an unnatural roar and ran towards Gambit. The Cajun gritted his teeth waiting for the right moment to strike. As Sabretooth reached him, Gambit sprang into the air and slammed the staff into Sabretooth's back, the attached shuriken sinking into the brute's spine. Sabretooth fell over howling and writhed on the ground until Gambit silenced him with another sharp rap to the head.

Riptide growled and began to spin once more. Gambit dashed to the storming mutant and shoved his staff into the gyrating winds. The tornado screamed and was thrown across the basement, slamming into the far wall with a sickening crack of bone and plaster. The beaten mutant slumped to the ground.

As the ground began to shake, Gambit turned around and was faced with the charging mass of Blockbuster. The theif dove out of the way, barely dodging the rampaging mutant. Blockbuster's breakneck speed continued to propel him forward and he crashed into the wooden crates, giving Gambit a chance to form a plan for stopping the unstoppable force. The Marauder turned around to face his opponent again.

The Cajun grinned as an idea popped into his head, and he backed against the chill wall. He held out his staff, draped his coat roughly over it, and began waving his makeshift flag in front of him. "_Torro_!" he shouted in his best Matador impersonation. Blockbuster might not have been a bull, but he definitely saw red. With a guttural growl, he lowered his head, and began his stampede.

Gambit had to force himself to breathe as he watched the charging mutant near him, the ground trembling under each elephantine footstep. At the last second, Gambit dove away from the brute, somersaulting across the cold concrete floor. Blockbuster slammed head-first into the wall, breaking debris from the foundation. Large pieces of rock rained down upon the corpulent mutant and eventually buried him in a pile of stone. The limbs emerging from the mound twitched once and fell limp. Gambit took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Wolverine, sitting behind bars, could only stare dumbfounded at the staggering display that had just played out before him.

Gambit jogged over to the children's holding cell and searched the large tank for a door. The children behind the glass screamed and cried for him, pounding the glass window inaudibly.

"'ey, Wolverine! 'ow you open 'dis t'ing?" Gambit called.

"I dunno. Get me outta here first."

Gambit abandoned the aquarium and ran over to the tiny cage that held Wolverine. He experimentally kicked at it with his boot.

Wolverine scoffed. "Don't even bother. It's solid. Just get me outta this." He nodded toward his imprisoned hands.

"Well, dere a key aroun' 'ere…?"

"Not sure. I ain't never seen one. I just woke up in here not too long ago."

"Hm…" Gambit examined the cuffs delicately. Wolverine fidgeted nervously as he stared at Gambit's lowered head. Suddenly a weight fell away from his wrists and he snapped to attention to find the other mutant watching him anxiously, fingers lightly tracing along his reddened skin.

"Y'all right?" Gambit asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Wolverine drew his hands into the cage and carved the bars open listlessly. After a moment he managed to ease himself out of the cramped cage and he rose to his feet, scratching his matted hair. "How'd ya do that?"

Gambit waved the cuffs in front of him, smiling. "Just 'ad t'press a few buttons. _Aisé_."

Wolverine stared at his hands and shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Hey…Gumbo, look…I…" Suddenly he noticed Gambit worriedly looking over his shoulder at the imprisoned children. He abandoned his speech and nodded understanding. "Let's get those kids."

The pair jaunted over to the tank and searched the perimeter for a door. One side looked like it would slide completely open; however, there seemed no way to move it from the tank itself. Gambit then noticed a card reader attached to the nearby console, a red light shining brightly.

"Look like we need a keycar', homme."

"Check the freaks."

Wolverine frisked Sabretooth's unconscious body as Gambit patted down Riptide on the opposite side of the basement. Taking one last glance at the Cajun to make sure he wasn't looking, Wolverine swiftly kicked Sabretooth in the chin, sending a resounding crack through the barren chamber.

"What was dat?" Gambit asked.

"Nothin'. Hit my foot on a rock. He doesn't have it," Logan ascertained, nudging the fallen mutant roughly with his shoe for emphasis.

"Hol' on. I tink I got somethin' on Riptide…"

Gambit opened Riptide's coat revealing numerous glistening shurikens lining the fabric. He reached inside the only pocket he could see and came out holding a red card.

"_Oui_. 'ere it is."

They hurried back to the side of the tank. Gambit slid the card through the reader and the glass wall began scraping open.

The children stared almost uncomprehendingly at the open door. Gambit made to enter, but suddenly felt a painful grip on the back of his neck.

"Ow! Wolverine, what you—"

The Cajun was lifted off of the floor, struggling and kicking as he hung by his neck. Wolverine's similar grunting convinced him they weren't alone in the room, yet he was somehow still surprised to hear Sinister's voice rasping breathily next to his ear.

"This is very impressive, Gambit. I honestly wouldn't have expected this much from you." Sinister held the struggling mutants in the air at arm's length. "But these children are mine." Sinister threw the two X-Men across the basement. The bodies fell into a row of folded metal chairs. Wolverine jumped up and unsheathed his claws, while Gambit stood and brandished a glowing card.

Sinister grinned with dark amusement and brushed off his coat.

The X-Men charged him, and Sinister leapt into the air, landing behind the duo as they ran past, his feet connecting with the backs of their heads. Wolverine groaned, the wall about his head sporting a network of new cracks. Gambit leapt up from the ground and once again took out his staff. He swung it skillfully, but Sinister blocked every attempted blow with his arm. He snatched the stick from Gambit and threw it behind him, giving the Cajun a swift kick in the gut, and he fell back on top of Wolverine.

"It's no use. I am far more powerful than either of you will ever be. More powerful than any X-Man. And soon, more powerful than Charles Xavier himself," Sinister hissed.

He approached the prone forms of the two X-Men. "But now, it's time to end your suffering…and mine as well. I'm fed up with your meddling. You two have been more of a headache than you could possibly imagine. No longer, though."

Sinister tore a metal pipe out of the wall, steam hissing out of the new opening. He raised the pipe over his head and smiled. "And then there were three."

The pipe whistled through the air, but the blow never connected.

"What?" Sinister growled. He let go of the pipe and stared as it floated in the air. He backed away and spotted a large green vine holding the metal tube in place. The vine was a foot thick and had small green leaves and yellow flowers emerging from its thick skin. Sinister touched it curiously, feeling the organic texture of the plant. Reflexively, the vine smacked Sinister across the face with the pipe, sending him soaring through the air and tumbling onto the floor, groaning. He stood unsteadily, rubbing his face and followed the length of the plant with his eyes. The vine originated from a newly-made hole in the concrete floor. And next to the opening stood one of the children – a frail girl with black hair, pale skin visible from beneath her tattered black sweater and holey jeans. She stared, unmoving, at Sinister from beneath a lowered brow, hands at her side.

Sinister chuckled. "Get back in the tank, little one," he said, pointing.

Mia made no move.

Sinister took a deep, shaking breath, his fury building. "I will not ask again, child."

She stood.

Sinister cracked his knuckles and marched toward her, scowling.

The floor began to shake, stopping Sinister in his tracks as he fought to maintain his balance. Out of the opening shot three more vines, even larger and thicker than the previous. The vines wrapped around Sinister's body, tying his legs together. He fought viciously to escape from the grasp of the vegetation, but the flora was frozen in an unbreakable posture, grip firmer than steel, and it lifted him off of his feet.

Gambit and Wolverine watched the scene in utter amazement.

The vines snaked up Sinister's torso, engulfing his arms and surrounding his neck, constricting. Before his eyes, the yellow flowers on the surface closed and the vines began retreating back into the hole.

Sinister's muffled scream was barely heard from behind the vines as his bound body was dragged into the subterranean cavern. As the sound died away, a single daisy sprouted from a crack in the floor beside the hole.

Mia's suddenly relaxed from her rigid posture as her legs gave out beneath her. Gambit's arms were around her at once and she gasped as he held her close to him, pressing his face to hers, his two-day stubble tickling her cold skin. Gambit relaxed his grip only slightly to plant a kiss on the top of her head, then let out a sigh of relief.

_I's over…_

Wolverine stood up shakily and walked over to the tank.

"Everyone okay in here?"

The children wiped away their tears and nodded their heads, sniffling.

"All right. Gumbo, we need to contact Beast. Get the Blackbird out here to pick everyone up."

Gambit gently shifted Mia in his arms so he could reach his pocket. He brought out his radio and sighed again in relief when he turned the knob and received a reassuring crackle.

Beasts soothing voice was carried over the air waves. "Yes? This is Beast."

"'Ey, Beast…i's Gambit. I'm out at da facility by da Falls. I got Wolverine wit' me. And we got all da children. We need you to bring da Blackbird out 'ere and pick us up."

"Gambit, you…how…?"

"We'll s'plain lata'. Just get out 'ere soon as ya can."

"Will do. I'm on my way."

Wolverine seemed suddenly to wake up. "Oh, Doc!" Wolverine shouted from across the room.

"Yes, Logan?" the radio crackled.

"Pick up my bike before you get here, would ya? It's at the mouth of the waterfall."

Beast's laugh was tinny amidst the static. "Wolverine…"

"Jus' do it, Doc."

"Al-all right. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The radio clicked off.

The children walked out of the tank and stretched shyly, taking in their rescuers. Mia wiggled out of Gambit's arms and ran over to them, smiling.

Wolverine shuffled up next to Gambit.

"So…we got 'em."

"_Oui_. I tink dey're all okay."

"Yeah, me too. Listen, Gambit. About the waterfall…I, uh, didn't, well, ya know…"

Gambit turned to Wolverine and hugged him tightly. He leaned close to his ear and whispered.

"Don' worry 'bout it. Everyt'ings fine now."

Wolverine smiled and let his head fall into the chestnut hair.

Gambit released his grip and put his arm around Logan's shoulder. The two walked over to the group of kids and led them outside.

Within ten minutes, the Blackbird arrived. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out the wild exclamations of the children as it touched down.

"All right, e'ryone. We gon' go home now. All of us."

The X-Men guided the children up the lowered ramp and into the aircraft. The Blackbird lifted off and soared over Arethusa Falls.

The kids stared at the thundering waterfall.

"Look at that!"

"Wow!"

"That's a long way down!"

Despite the constant requests of the children to "look!" Gambit and Wolverine never did, only sitting silently in the back of the jet, letting the strain of the past week melt away.

The Blackbird left Arethusa Falls and continued onwards towards the horizon.

"Well, dis looks like yo' stop, Aaron." Gambit reached a gloved hand down and ruffled the boy's hair fondly.

"Yeah, kiddo, you take care o' yerself. And remember what we said about the school. You can come anytime."

Aaron smiled sheepishly but managed to stammer "Yes…yessir" before running into his house.

Gambit grinned. "Ya scared 'im, homme."

Wolverine grumbled and punched him lightly as they made their way back to the jet.

"Where are we going now?" Mia chirped from the co-pilot seat.

"We're going 'ome, chérie."

Mia wriggled excitedly, a dozen questions obviously dancing through her mind, but she kept silent and stared through the windshield.

It only took two minutes to make the trip back to the mansion. Unfortunately, it took Beast just as long again to land and power down the Blackbird, and Mia grew impatient. Gambit had to hold her back to prevent her from tumbling down the ramp as it began its slow descent to the floor of the hangar.

When they finally reached solid ground, a small welcoming party was waiting for them.

"Hello," came the first voice, warm and kind. "Your name is Mia, right? I don't think you remember me. My name is Jean."

"And I am Storm. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Mia."

"We have a surprise for you, Mia, if you want to come see," said Jean. "We heard you were coming and got a room all ready for you."

Mia gave Gambit a frightened glance, but her worry melted away beneath his loving smile. "Go on, petite. See what da ladies fixed for you."

Mia scampered off with Jean and Storm, already chattering and bouncing. Beast loped out of the Blackbird as Gambit and Wolverine watched the group depart.

"Well, gentlemen, I believe I shall retire to my quarters. I should like to find at least one night's peaceful slumber before we are again called to the battlefield. As Ovid wrote," Beast murmured as he began to walk away, "sleep 'soothes our breasts by daily toil over-wearied, and prepares for labor new.'" His voice faded into the corridor and Wolverine and Gambit found themselves alone in the hangar.

"So, we're good now, right?" Wolverine broke the silence even though it had not been entirely unpleasant.

"'Course. Somethin' wrong?"

"Nah. Well, I suppose…I was just wondering," Wolverine cleared his throat forcefully and shifted his lower jaw. "Well, if you meant it."

Gambit stared at Wolverine's lowered head for a long moment before realization dawned on him.

"Yeah, Ah meant it."

Wolverine sighed deeply and his shoulders shrugged. Gambit could feel a tiring sadness begin to descend upon him again, but before the familiar feeling could take root Wolverine's heavy hands gripped his shoulders firmly. He looked up to the other man looking unusually nervous, but the image only lasted a moment before Wolverine leaned forward and planted a tentative kiss on his lips.

Before he could gather his wits to form even an incoherent response, Wolverine was halfway to the door.

"C'mon Rems, doncha wanna see your girl's new room?"

"_Ouais_, yeah…" Gambit shook his head furiously, then grinned broadly as he broke into a run. "'ey Logan, wait up!"


	9. Epilogue: Home for Christmas

A/N: Well, this is the end of the story. It only took a year to write, and I'm thankful to all the people who have read and reviewed it. There is a sequel planned, though other projects might hold it up. Love and support in the form of reviews always make good fuel to get those things going, though.  
So, here it is, the last tiny smidgen of Long way down. I hope you enjoyed it.  
TT

The wolf padded softly up the snowy slope, tentatively picking its way through the scattered boulders.

The sun was shining fiercely but the warmth did not penetrate the thin mountain air, and the beast's breath swirled in fragile tendrils around the computer disk clamped tightly in its jaws.

The footfalls and breathing were all but noiseless, yet still managed to create a cacophony within the desolate mountain range. Surely he could hear everything but, for once, stealth mattered little.

Cresting a steep incline, the wolf paused briefly to examine the surroundings before advancing across the plateau. It stopped at a sharp cliff face and sniffed at the cold rock. After one last scan of the area, the wolf turned and walked through the wall.

"Please, my dear Mystique, you wound me. Do you truly think I would ask you here, my ally, only to let you be ambushed?"

"Yes," she answered coldly, removing the disk from her mouth as she rose.

He grinned at her reply, but made no move to defend his honor. Instead he beckoned her closer with a jerk of his head and held his hand out expectantly. Mystique stared him levelly in the eye, and whipped the disk violently at his face. Without breaking their gaze, Sinister held his hand out and caught it, the corner of his mouth twitching when he saw annoyance flash across Mystique's hard features.

Without another word, the shapeshifter turned on her heel and strode brusquely for the exit.

"By the way," Sinister said companionably, as though Mystique were not blatantly trying to quit his company, "how _is_ your daughter?"

"She is safe," the woman replied flatly, not turning around. When it was clear there would be no more questions, she continued forward into the chill of the evening.

Sinister stood alone in the cave for a time, turning the plastic disk around in hands as though he could see the maps it contained if only he stared at it long enough. As the cave began to grow dark, he shifted his gaze to the dying fire. A twisted smile spread across his face as he rose and began to mumble the words of an old song.

"Later on, we'll conspire, as we dream by the fire…"

He snuffed the last embers out with his boot and walked out into the night as he hummed.

"Walking in a winter wonderland."


End file.
